


Human Instinct

by Centelope



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: ....again, Angst, Bones to the rescue, Eventual Torture, Friendship, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Jim gets drugged, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 95,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centelope/pseuds/Centelope
Summary: A series of on-going stories featuring a large dose of hurt-comfort and friendship."I can't do this!" Jim yelled, "I'll never be able to feed myself again!""Now listen here, Jim," his head was suddenly clasped between the hands of Bones, "You don't learn to walk after standing up once, and you can't talk fluently after saying one word," he eyed the bowl of food, "You've gotta teach yourself motor skills again. What happened to no-win scenarios?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The usual: I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters or objects. I own only the single letters on this fanfiction.

_"This is the 6th time you've been in here this week, Jim, it's getting ridiculous!"_

_"It keeps you on your toes, right?" Jim grinned at his CMO, Doctor McCoy, having been brought in by Spock with a limp._

_"I'm not messing around this time Jim. This has to stop." McCoy's face almost struck a cord in Jim; a bad one at that, more anxiety, but he kept it hidden. He fought it with the pending anger building up._

_"It's your job. You're the damn chief medical officer of my ship, if you're getting too sick and tired of it then I'm happy to let you leave!"_

_"The only person here I see sick every damn day is you. You're the Captain, Jim, what example does this set to the rest of the crew, coming back from every away mission injured in some... stupid way?"_

_"Don't you dare start lecturing me on what I do."_

_"I'm the CMO of this tin can. Like you pointed out, it's my job."_

_"Don't you start pulling rank on me, Doctor McCoy."_

_"Jim, all I'm asking is for you to start being more careful. The crew are getting concerned and so am I." McCoy breathed out an exasperated sigh._

_"Fine, I'll be more careful, yeah, whatever. Happy?"_

_McCoy's lips drew into a thin line._

_"Yeah. Happy. Promise."_

 

This was what Bones had said to Jim yesterday. Now, Jim had already broken that promise. Or nearly broken it.

He probably would.

 

"Give my crew one of your Earth shuttles, James. Kirk. Or I will happily sit here and continue using you as my... playtime rag doll." demanded the angry Romulan

Jim grinned at the innuendo.

"Uh huh. I bet you would love to play with me."

**_Smack._ **

"Don't get cocky with me. You have another minute to comply or I'll try another method, that will be surely more painful than the last."

Jim sighed inwardly. The past 3 attempts to get him to offer up a shuttle didn't work, why would this? He's had a hot pipe burnt against his back, a piece of wood lodged into his stomach; and was not sure if it was bleeding or not, and just now the Romulan had tried and failed to get results by making small cuts to his neck. Threatening to kill him. But obviously they needed him alive for the shuttles so Jim didn't fall for that.

"You have made your choice. Guards!" The Romulan was soon approached by 3 other marching Klingons.

Jim froze. Klingons? Why was a Romulan working with Klingons?

The captive Romulan smirked.

"tar San ghaHvaD jatlh nob."

Jim chuckled at the last word. Man the guy really was being childish today. And apparently the Romulan knew how to speak Klingon.

 _Nice_ , Jim thought, as the guards took something from the Romulan's hand and started approaching him. He swallowed hard and tried to keep himself grounded.

"Y'know, it's kinda rare for a Romulan to be able to talk Klin-- whoa, what the hell are you--?" A very rough Klingon yanked Jim's head back, while another had a firm grip on Jim's jaw, forcefully pouring the contents of the small bottle down his throat. He coughed through it, at the sudden invasion, but the more he evaded it, the harder it seemed to keep himself in control.

Jim tugged his head to the side, trying to get away from the likely dangerous bottle, but the captors had a tight grasp over his head, forcing the liquid down while he spluttered through it.

Eventually the fight for control turned into fight for air. He couldn't breathe with it constantly being poured down his throat.

"S-stop," Jim spluttered, choking on the foul liquid.

A few more seconds dragged on, before he took a final tiny gasp and the colour left his vision. Just then, he heard "Stop" followed by a clatter at his side.

He realised it was him.

" _Give me a shuttle."_ an echoey voice said above him. It sounded so far away, yet so near.

Jim struggled to his feet, not wanting to appear weak.

"Never." he breathed, immediately being kneed into the floor again, his head once again yanked back as the vile liquid was tipped into his mouth unwillingly.

"Give one to me or this shall continue indefinitely." he barely heard the voice above him, his ears flooded with white noise.

 _These guys really had a knack for pointlessly torturing people_ , Jim thought to himself as a distraction.

His thoughts drifted from the burning in his throat to the burning in his chest.

He needed oxygen.

He couldn't breathe.

Were they willing to kill him? To prove a point?

_Who am I kidding, these are Klingons._

His vision faded to black, before he felt himself drop to the floor, banging his head on the concrete. He groaned.

"Do it again," the Romulan ordered.

His head was clutched into the hands of a Klingon and shoved back before he screamed;

" ** _Wait!_** "

A few seconds later, and the grip on his head eased. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"You will allow us a shuttle?"

Jim stood into his shaky two feet.

Just then, Jim was surrounded by a golden haze. A bolt of fear ran through him. For a mere second.

Then, he swallowed quietly and made a silent prayer to the Enterprise that they'd found him.

The white prestige walls materialised around him. Scotty was the first person who saw him, looking very concerned.

"Cap'n, you be looking mighty beaten' to a pulp, perhaps a visit to Doctor McCoy is in order?" The chief engineer asked with worry.

Jim put on his best smile.

"I'm okay Scotty, thanks," he said, heading immediately for the door. No way was he seeing McCoy.

…..

Straight to the bridge he went. The relieved faces of his officers quickly turned to that of concern as he walked around the room to his chair, all noticing his bruised, cut and paled face, with splotches of different discoloured blues and green covering it.

Spock was the first to speak up.

"Captain, have you yet to report to sickbay?"

Jim held himself back from sighing. This was going to be irritating.

"No. I'll go later. We need to get out of here before they discover we're--"

" _Jim, the hell are you doing in here?"_

For a split second, Jim thought he preferred the Klingons to this man right now.

"Bones, I'll be down to sickbay in a minute, I need to get the crew safe," he lied to the man hovering near the turbo lift. There was an awkward silence in the room, before,

"Are you okay?" his voice panned around the room as he walked closer to Jim.

"Take us out, Sulu, warp factor 3" the Captain ordered quietly.

"Aye aye," a voice returned, "Warp factor 3."

McCoy's face appeared into Jim's vision, who shut his eyes, dreading what was next.

Of course, Bones' face scrunched up in concern, his eyes dropping into sad emotion.

"The hell _happened_?"

"Angry Klingons and Romulans," he replied, with Bones' medical device floating around him. Jim scowled.

"I said I'd be down in a minute, Bones," he sighed, blinking a couple of times at the background of the room zooming in and out, like vertigo.

It left as quickly as it started.

"You come straight down to me, alright?" Bones said, both fiercely and with concern.

Jim nodded, and waited for him to leave before he shut his eyes.

He wasn't going back to sickbay yet, even if he had to live with half a working lung, and that was the end of it.

….

Jim wheezed. And inhaled slowly.

**_Cough_ **

_God damn it._

He looked up at the screen, absentmindedly gripping onto the sides of the Captain chair as if preparing for roller coaster ride.

The world span in circles, nausea setting in.

"Captain," he didn't notice Spock stepping out in front of him, "Would you like me to contact the doctor?"

Jim shook his head no.

He would live this out.

"Steady as she goes, Sulu," he said instead with his eyes closed.

Jim rapidly was feeling weaker. He felt himself swaying in his seat, his pulse rocketing away in his ears as his heart thumped in his chest. White noise blocked every second coming in, the only other thing he heard was his own breathing.

He groaned, struggling to keep a grip on reality, trying to stay awake.

Was this really worth it?

……

Spock watched Jim like a hawk from his station. He could see from the corner of his eye that every other officer in the room was watching Jim too.

The man appeared to be swaying in his seat, paling even more than before. A quiet groan escaped the Captain's lips, and Spock turned to Uhura as there was a loud thump.

Spock spun around in his chair, to find Jim now on the floor, convulsing violently, body rigid.

"Doctor McCoy to the bridge, now!" he shouted with urgency over the comms, getting up and kneeling next to Jim, trying to hold his head still from bashing against the floor repeatedly.

On closer inspection, Spock could see something he wished he never did.

Jim's eyes were very slightly cracked open, staring fearfully into Spock's as the seizure continued.

Spock disregarded his illogical desire to express an emotion and swallowed hard.

Jim was aware of what was happening.

For a quick second, Spock pulled Jim over onto his side, allowing the foam building up in his mouth to spill out. He wondered what had happened to get him to react like this.

Quiet groans emitted from the younger man who shook recklessly under Spock's firm grip.

He allowed himself to comfort Jim.

"The doctor will be here soon, Jim." he muttered under his breath. "You will be functional soon."   
An irrational flood of relief sank in when he heard a very quiet but real groan from Jim.   
His eyes looked down towards Jim’s hands, which were gripping harder onto Spock’s uniform.   
He wasn’t sure if it was the seizure or if Jim was doing it on his own.

The door hissed open, McCoy running out and assessing the room for the emergency.

"Shit," he heard him say, watching McCoy as he knelt down next to Jim, opening his medkit and grabbing a hypospray, checking the dosage and if Jim was allergic to the medicine before pressing its contents into Jim's neck.

The seizing slowly stopped, but the younger man wasn't breathing anymore.

To Spock's illogical relief, he was unconscious now. But the circumstances of that, was not desirable.

"Okay," a shaky breath next to Spock said. "Spock, I need you to carry his negligent ass over to sickbay, there's no time to wait for them to get here, I’ll meet them half way with a gurney" he ordered, pressing another hypo into his neck. "Tri-ox should keep him going for a while but we need to go. Now."

Spock nodded, rolling Jim's prone body into his arms with ease and heading for the turbo lift, ignoring the watchful eyes of the other officers in the room, while McCoy brought out his communicator.

.....

Jim was slowly brought into consciousness by the sound of rattling and vibrations below him. Wind passed his face, to what he assumed was because he was going very fast. Somehow.

He rattled his tired memory, not daring to open his eyes. Jim was so confused.

"Jim?" he heard a gruff voice from above him call his name, a warm hand slipped into his cold one, "I need you to squeeze my hand if you can hear me, Kid." he managed to make out that the sentence was from McCoy. His hand wasn't responding to him. He tried with all his empty strength to muster at least a small squeeze, but there was no movement. He groans.

"That'll do," he heard, "Can you open your eyes?"

Bracing himself, Jim took a deep breath and froze. He couldn't take a deep breath.

Panic set in.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, but the rest of his body didn't respond. He wanted to kick, to thrash around, to express his anger, but his body betrayed him.

He couldn't hold back a fearful moan, feeling his heard thud in his chest.

"You've got a tube in your throat Jim, that's why you can't breathe properly," he heard.

Jim wrenched open his eyes, immediately slamming them shut again at the bright fluorescent lights burning his retinas.

Slowly opening them slightly, he saw many lights coming and going, McCoy was by his side, and it seemed like even Spock was too.

"We're almost at sickbay Jim, just hold on," was the last thing he heard before giving up entirely and allowing himself to sink into nothingness.

….

Jim awake again with a new profound hatred for the inventor of lightbulbs.   
And hearing.  
He didn’t want to have ears right now. He sympathised with Spock.   
There were still sounds of rattling around him, his stomach was churning, as if getting ready to throw up again now that he was awake. The sounds of voices around him confused him; he couldn’t concentrate on a single one.

He came to realise how tired he was. Part of him wanted to open his eyes; to see what was going on around him, to settle the urging unease that pitted in his stomach.

But his eyelids were heavy, his entire body weighing him down. And not only could he not move his body, but he didn’t want to. He was weak. Floating. Exhausted.

A feeling of warmth washed over him, hot flushes and cold flushes every other minute. One minute his hairs were standing on end, the next he was feverish and desperate for water.

He noticed what felt like a hole in his stomach. It was like a huge gap, like when you expose your stomach to the wind, or the feeling of when you get out the shower and your body is freezing.  
His body involuntarily shivered.

Then there was a hand on his forehead; a warm hand, gently easing him back into reality. Almost instantly, the painful actuality of reality came back to him.

A deep ache in his chest, and sharp shooting pain up both of his arms.   
The sound of fast beeping faded into his hearing, and slowly the feeling of exhaustion and tire was lifted from him. He needed to speak to the person who touched him.

There _was_ someone there.

“B’nes?” he slurred, his lips only slightly parting. His heart thudded as he spoke, realising that he could speak again.  
The hand was then accompanied by another down the side of his face.

“I’m here, Jim” was the first thing he heard.

He readied himself to speak again. He took a deep breath to utter the next sentence. How did he explain the pain and get someone to fix it in one word?

“ _Hurts_ ” he muttered with his hoarse throat. A very dry one in fact. Jim really needed to get some of that water.

“I know.” Was the response he got, “Wanna go back to sleep kid?”

Jim thought long and hard about this for an entire 1 second.

“No.” he whispered.

“Good, ‘cos I can’t let ya.”

Jim let out a strained chuckle and gave himself 3 minutes to recover from it.

3 minutes later, the pain still hadn’t gone away.

“Still hurts,” he managed to muster. Jeez, never did talking seem so difficult. He’d never let his breaths go to waste again. He would now calculate how each breath should be taken. Perhaps get Spock to calculate how every expressed letter would affect the amount of breath he needed to—

“You’ve got something weird inside your veins kid, did you pick something up on that planet?”

Jim wished he could scowl. He _just_ said he was in pain, did the man not care?

“Dunno” he replied. Honestly, Jim couldn’t remember. He needed water, and he needed to _not_ be in pain. And that was all he cared about. His chest burned more to get his attention.  
_Shut up, I’m trying to help you_ , Jim thought, hoping his chest could here.  
His chest continued to rebel.

“ _Huuuurts_ ” Jim moaned, really wishing he could struggle to emphasise how unhappy he was. He heard a long drawn out sigh.  
_Well sorry that my pain is being an inconvenience to you._

“Jim, I can’t do anything because you’ve got some weird shit in your veins. I can’t risk the chemicals mixi-“

“ _Do somethiiing!_ ” he groaned louder over his voice. Perhaps if that man had spent 5 seconds living with a loud obnoxious angry complaining body like his, there would be something done about the agony he was in. His arms were still stabbing him and his chest was burning.

“Jim, I can’t, I… god damn it,” the last few words were muttered, and Jim heard a clatter of something being picked up beside him. He knew the man wouldn’t give him what he wanted, so Jim quickly realised what the next action was.   
A hand pressed against his neck.

“Don’t,” Jim warned quickly.

Another sigh.

“I can’t give you a pain killer, the only ones you’re not allergic to will likely react badly to the chemicals inside you. I have one sedative here that won’t.”

Jim exhaled, he cracked his eyes open to look the man in the eye to get his point across.  
He realised it was Bones.  
Of course, hypo-happy maniac.

“Don’t care.” He said, while Bones completely ignored him and sent the hypo stabbing into his neck anyway.

“Hate you…” he muttered, falling asleep, knowing that Bones understood it was sarcasm.

“I know, right back at ya.” Was the last words he heard that confirmed it.

…

McCoy simply shook his head in exasperation, moving to work on the rest of his battered body.

Jim glimpsed around him. There were 4 nurses at the bottom of the bed, 3 doctors including Bones handing things to each other across his stomach and he could hear people at the head of his bed.

Speaking of bed, Jim never noticed he was lying on one.

He looked down curiously, then bent his head to the side, taking in his surroundings, wincing from the complaint of his chest.

He was lying flat on his back against a weird bed thing, there were lights pulled over the bed all over him, and Jim couldn't help but feel slightly scared. A little more than scared perhaps.

"Wha's goin' on?" Jim slurred, rolling his head back onto the pillow to face the ceiling. "Wha's 'appening?"

Bones gave a discreet nod to the nurse next to him and stepped closer to Jim's line of view, peering over him.

"Your blood isn't clotting," he admitted, glancing above Jim's head, likely looking at the monitors. A feeling of anxiety bubbled in his stomach.

This level of fear was unknown to him.

"I took ya blood, there's something I haven't seen before all over it. I think it's affecting the clotting."

Jim let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Several breaths, actually.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

"Why...didn't...y'tell me?" Jim asked him, breathing going rapidly out of control.

"I was trying to keep you calm, you idiot,"

Jim shut his eyes again.

Under his breath, Jim muttered something he never admitted since the day he died saving the ship.

"M'scared...Bones.." he sluggishly tugged at his shirt.

"Why?" he whispered.

He could almost feel Bones scowling from above him. A shrill alarm began blaring, much to Jim's ears dismay.

"So this doesn't happen." Bones hissed, the clattering alerted Jim that he was picking something up again.

"Don't," he begged him. Jim wanted to be awake.

"Have no choice. Night night, ya bastard." was the last thing Jim heard before a cold metal was pressed against his neck before he could react, a sting radiating his pain, and passing out seconds later. And then the pain was gone.

...

McCoy sat alone in his office, half asleep. The other doctors insisted he had a break, despite his constant complaining.

Or perhaps his constant complaining is why they wanted him to take a break.

Sighing, he stretched his arms out across his desk and tucked his head into them. Perhaps a few seconds of sleep would improve his usefulness to--

"Doctor McCoy!" He could faintly hear his name being yelled from another room.

Shit, the kid must be in trouble.

_Can’t catch a god damn second break._

McCoy shot up from his office chair and darted out the door and into sickbay, to be greeted with Jim struggling against nurse Chapel. Jim was sat up half-upright on the bed, both hands gripped onto Chapel’s arms, trying to pull away forcefully.

McCoy strode over purposefully. “Jim! The hell are you doing!?”  
Jim yanked his arm aside, sending Chapel to the ground. He looked down at her apologetically.

“She was trying to jab me with something without my permission!”

McCoy glared at him.  
“I jab you with everything _all_ the time and the only thing you do is yell curses, what the hell’s this?” he gestured to Chapel getting off of the floor.  
Jim thumped back onto the bed.

He muttered under his breath “Well I wouldn’t dare get into an argument with you…”

McCoy continued to scowl at him, helping Chapel up onto a chair.

“My sickbay’s _not_ a boxing arena. Now, I don’t want to see you tackling my nurses to the ground again, got it?”

Jim huffed out a sigh in resignation and sagged back onto the bed, swearing to ignore McCoy for the rest of time by giving him the cold shoulder.

McCoy turned to Chapel, rolling his eyes, "And what were you trying to do, nurse?"

Chapel seemed to tense up.

"I was just trying to take a blood sample. To analyse the foreign chemicals." she stated, apprehensive. "The second I put a hand on his arm, he lashed out, doctor."

Jim sat up again.

"She didn't even warn me!" he defended himself, "She just grabbed that intimidating plastic fork off the table and was about to stab it in me!"

McCoy scowled, "That 'plastic fork' is what we use to take a blood sample.' Then he twisted himself to Jim, suddenly annoyed, "You have one done in every single physical! What's so different?"

McCoy shook his head at his observation and picked up the device from the table, grasping Jim's arm before it was yanked away, McCoy almost stumbling forward.

"Jim!" he shouted in shock, "What the hell?"

"Don't touch me!" Jim yelled back, spinning himself off the bed before McCoy manhandled him back.

Jim sunk down onto the bed, clutching both his arms protectively.

McCoy sighed.

"Christine, can you leave us a moment?" he asked patiently.

Chapel was never more happy to leg it out of sickbay.

_Perhaps the blonde idiot would open up more if they were alone._

Slowly, McCoy turned to Jim, letting out a long sigh as he sat down next to him.

As Jim was still wordless, he rubbed his face in his hands, half wanting to fall asleep right there and then.

He looked up, gazing at the wall tiredly.

"What's gotten into you, Jim?" he asked, "You're more jumpy than a lost ship out on stormy sea, care to explain?'

Jim shrugged ever so slightly.

"I want to sleep." he muttered. The kid looked as tired as he did.

"Jim," McCoy began, quietly, "I gotta get a blood sample, alright? You've done it a million times before, but it's really important right now.." he sighed, "Do you understand?"

The almost-asleep Captain nodded. McCoy took that as the affirmative, and firmly grabbed hold of his arm. Much to his surprise, Jim didn't object this time.

So he went ahead and drove the device into the arm.

Until the metal had done so much as even touched a single molecule on Jim's skin, and then there was a gravely inhale from the kid's throat and a solid punch--

**_Crash!_ **

\--that threw McCoy away, onto the floor, much like Chapel was moments ago.

Speaking of, she bustled into the room at the noise.

"Doctor, are you--"

"It's alright nurse, I'm fine," McCoy scowled the whole time he stood back up. "Best if ya leave us a little while longer."

Chapel hesitated, but a firm nod and she was gone.

McCoy swiftly spun on his heels to Jim, scowling.

" _IDontKnow_ ," Jim spat out quickly. McCoy's features softened.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna kill ya," he said, tossing the device into the bin. "At least not yet, anyway."

Jim's eyes followed McCoy's, as he paced around the room, trying to think of what to do.

"Do you remember what happened on the bridge?" he asked.

Jim licked his lips in thought.

"I fainted?"

McCoy chuckled half-heartedly.

"Yeah, then you went and had a damn seizure! What _was_ that, anyway?"

Jim shut his eyes and groaned. "Isn't that your job to find out?"

McCoy stopped pacing, and Jim froze for a second, probably thinking McCoy was about to rant at him.

But his shoulders just slumped.

"What was the last away mission you were on?"

"Um..." Jim paused, seemingly having to think about that. Then his eyes widened.

"Romulans" he breathed in surprise. " _Klingons_ "

McCoy raised his eyebrows.

"Something you wanna tell me?" he lowered Jim back down to the bed, noting the flying heart rate.

"Drugged me," Jim finished, breathing quickly in shock, panic perhaps, "They drugged me, I.." he swallowed and choked on his breath, "Oh god--"

"Alright alright," McCoy soothed, placing a restraining arm into Jim's wavering hands “ _At least_ we know where the weird chemicals came from,” he said, patting Jim’s shoulder, even though that clearly was not going to help him.

Jim, of course, was still staring wondrously into the non-existent horizon that was the walls of the sickbay. McCoy sat beside him, watching him as if he was Scotty, fixating his eyes on a potential prey that were ogling his last bottle of scotch.

Except the scotch was Jim, and Jim didn’t seem to be wanting to move anytime soon.  
Surprisingly.

“Bones?” came a unexpectedly feeble voice from the side of him.

McCoy grunted. “Mm?”   
Jim began sitting up, McCoy now glaring at his probably-soon-to-be-escaping-Jim. “Whatcha doing? You’re not getting up now,”

“I gotta get back to the bridge,” Jim declared in his most authoritive voice he could muster, “Those.. those Romulans and Klingons, they’re probably coming after me, they’ll—oh”

McCoy sighed heavily.  
“Oh?”

Jim nodded.  
“I remember now. They wanted a shuttle from the Enterprise because they couldn’t take the ship while I wasn’t on it. And they couldn’t drug me or do any of…”  
Jim blinked slowly. McCoy stepped closely, slowly.

“Do what? Jim?”

“Ahem.. uh, they couldn’t drug me while I was on this ship, but now that I’m drugged and I’m back on board..” Jim trailed off in thought.

“..Then they’ll be after the Enterprise instead.” McCoy realised.   
Jim immediately spun his legs around the bed and jumped off.   
McCoy grabbed his shoulders and hauled him back.

“Oh no you’re not. You, are not going anywhere, yet.”

All of a sudden, sickbay plunged into darkness as the lights cut off.

“God damn it,” McCoy grumbled spinning around in circles aimlessly looking for the Captain, who had probably already darted out the door.

“Jim!” he bellowed through the pitch black hall way, filled with confused muttering noises and the engine hum. “God damn it! Jim!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strange chemicals takes over even more control of Jim, and he spirals out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning for angst and detail.

Bones pulled Jim into sickbay again, grumbling and cursing, the gown making it easy for Jim to escape his clutches. The doors hissed shut again.

Blue florescent lights. Emergency power.

Jim stumbled forward in desperation, "Please Bones, I have to get to the bridge, I have to keep us safe!"

McCoy pulled Jim's arm towards him and almost growled, "Jim! Not too long ago you had a seizure!"

Jim pushed himself away and stomped over to his clothes, switching over from gown to Captain uniform hurriedly.

"Jim!" McCoy urged again. Jim rolled his eyes and whipped his body to face McCoy's.

"Bones... Bones, if I don't do something, neither of us are going to be alive for you to take care of me anyway! No one will!"

McCoy shook his head, running a hand through matted hair.

"Alright! Alright. But, Jim; the second you start faltering I'm dragging you back here, even if I have to pull you by the hair while a Klingon is wrapped around your damn leg!"

Jim nodded, storming out the door and brushing off the doctor's weird remarks.

McCoy followed him, grabbing a medkit with " _Jim's non-lethal hopefully non-allergic emergency kit_ " written on tape with crude black marker.

....

The second Jim's foot stepped through the bridge door, all hell broke loose.

"Captain!" Uhura shouted as the room tinted red.

 _Red alert_ , Jim thought.

"What's going on?" he motioned to the lights.

"A Romulan vessel hailed us, asking for you. We told him you weren't available on ship's business, they opened fire on us," Sulu informed him, from the helm.

Kirk turned to Spock, who sat as idly and emotionless as ever.

"Mr Spock?"

The chair spun around.

"Captain?"

"What's our distance?"

"Approximately twenty three point sev--"

"Captain Kirk!" boomed a voice.

Everyone's heads shot up to look at the attacker on screen.

Jim tensed up. McCoy, obviously, took notice.

"Is that the guy?" McCoy muttered into Jim's probably not caring ear.

Jim nodded.

"I.. uh.." he stuttered.

"We're not finished yet, Kirk!" the Romulan shouted. "In fact you vanished the second I sent half my plan down your throat."

Jim absentmindedly touched his neck, remembering having the weird liquid forced down his throat.

The screen split into two.

For Jim.

"Bones.." Jim realised, stumbling and gripping onto the hand rails.

"Woah," McCoy was behind him, gripping his arms and carefully pushing him to the floor, "Easy, easy," he muttered.   
McCoy's frown deepened.

"What did you do to him?" Jim heard McCoy shout at the screen. He laughed internally.

Like they were gonna tell him.

"Let's just say I'm not stupid" the Romulan laughed, "I thought I’d put backup in place, just in case you grabbed him”

Jim groaned.

"And only I can make it stop. So give him to me, or give me a shuttlecraft."

McCoy scoffed. "And what do _you_ want with a shuttle?"

"It'll be easy to bring my vessel in the middle of Federation territory if they think a Starfleet ship had permission to bring it there."

McCoy shook his head in frustration, looking down to focus his attention back on Jim.

"You doin' okay?"

The younger man grunted.

"Don't..give him.... ship.." Jim breathed.

"I ain't stupid, kid," McCoy whispered, "Come on, back to sickbay with you, let Spock handle it, right Spock?"

Spock lifted his head.

"Affirmative."

"Right," McCoy stated, hauling Jim up to a standing position.

"Oh no you don't!" The screen voice boomed again.

But the screen transitioned to black, the hailing frequency cut.

There was an awkward confused silence.

Until Jim's legs buckled, and the room was suddenly filled with godawful heart wrenching screaming.

"Alright," McCoy grabbed Jim's under arms and hauled him to the turbo lift, howling. "Spock, with me." he grumbled.

...

Jim took a sudden huge gulp of air and swayed, but his body wanted more oxygen. He couldn't supply it.

He watched as the people around him melted to the ground, suffocating and gasping for air.

He couldn't give it to them. How could he? How? He needed the air too. Was he being selfish?

He felt his back dragged across the cold marble floor by Kodos, a pair of hands, likely his captors, clasp onto Jim's face.

Voices penetrated his hearing, but he couldn't concentrate on them. Images of his dead friends appeared in front of his vision.

_No, he couldn't do this again._

_He couldn't._

Petrified, Jim began thrashing under the strong hands that held him down, likely to interrogate and torment him.

 _Where are the rest of them?_ They would ask. Jim wouldn't answer, and would get beaten as punishment, but at least his friends would survive..

No, wait, they had died, didn't they?

Jim was confused.

Was this real or not? Something was bringing him back there.

No!

He couldn't go back there!

Jim had to fight!

...

McCoy was kneeling down next to Jim, and was running a tricorder over the man, Spock was holding him down.

Scared eyes met with McCoy's, the corner of Jim's eyes were wet with unshed tears.

If only he knew why.

"McCoy to sickbay, I'm with the Captain and I need someone to meet me on route, he's in a bad way," he instructed into his communicator, while scanning over Jim's body with his other hand. "I'm in the bridge turbolift."

"Chapel is on her way down, doctor," said a male voice. McCoy flipped the communicator shut. He watched Jim's shaking body, Spock hadn't taken his eye off him for a second.

"I don't wanna go back there.." a quiet voice muttered from Jim.

McCoy shuffled closer.

"What you mean, kid?"

Jim fell quiet again, but his heart was starting to race. Faster. And faster. And faster. And-

"I don't wanna go back there!" Jim half screamed from the ground, arms flailing wildly at the hands that tried to keep him still.

"Jim," Spock muttered, "Please elaborate on the place in which you do not wish to return."

The blonde only sucked in a breath, rolled onto his side and moaned.

"Jim, what are you seeing?" McCoy whispered. He placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, only to be violently wrenched aside by the man.

"I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK!" Jim screamed, standing and immediately topping over again onto his knees, which seconds later was accompanied by throwing up.

"Alright, alright," McCoy slipped his hands into Jim's clammy ones, they were visibly trembling. His fingers wrapped around Jim's wrist, trying to feel for the steady beat of a pulse, only to be met by quick thready arrhythmias.

"I don't...gasp...wanna...gasp...go..." Jim stuttered, practically vibrating against McCoy. The good doctor rubbed circles into his back, sighing quietly.

"What's that son of a bitch done to you?" he whispered, praying that backup would arrive soon.

Spock watched as McCoy allowed Jim to find comfort next to him, hyperventilating uncontrollably but pressing himself into his body. McCoy felt awkward, but maybe the kid needed some human touch.

Jim remained with his eyes closed, sobbing and shaking with his head leaned into McCoy's arms, waiting for help to arrive.

"Bones.." Jim muttered into his sleeve, voice muffled by the cloth.

"Right here."

"I don't wanna go back there..."

"I know kid, I know." McCoy's fingers found their way around Jim's wrist again.

He needed a god damn sedative _, damn it!_

"Doctor, I believe I can hear incoming footsteps from approximately four humanoids." Spock informed them, still motionlessly propped up against the wall.

"In other words, help is coming."

Spock's head craned sideways. "I believe I said that, doctor."

Right on cue, the lift doors opened and four nurses came storming in.

Alarmed, Jim threw himself against the wall, panic overwhelming him again.

"No, don't take me back there, please!" Jim cried, his legs like jelly. "I don't know where they are! I swear!"

"It's alright Jim, we're here to help you," Chapel reassured him smoothly, reaching out to Jim's arm in the crowded lift.

Jim wailed and pulled away.

"Stop!" his eyes were red with hot tears.

"It's okay, come here!" Chapel opened her arms out to him at a distance, as though waiting for a toddler to take their first steps.

"No!" Jim spluttered, collapsing onto the floor and struggling to breathe through shear panic. Jim looked up at all the faces above him.

"I... don't..." Jim inhaled, gurgling emitting from the back of his throat, his throat closing up. "Can't breathe.."

"Alright, hands off!" a gruff voice sounded from the side of him.

"But doctor--"

"Hands off! Now!"

Slowly, all the patronising faces backed away, disappearing through his line of vision.

Jim glanced over to the voice of the man who saved him from his torturers. That man too was wearing blue, like all the others.

Could he be trusted?

The man knelt down in front of him, muttering something to someone next to him. Jim never caught it, as the black dots clouded his vision from lack of oxygen, and passed out.

..

McCoy took the chance to jab a hypo into Jim's neck.

And another.

And another.

In fact there were so many hypos going into his neck, McCoy would have found it amusing if it wasn't for his condition. He rested the back of his hand against Jim's forehead.

"Burning up," he muttered quietly, "Get him on oxygen and take him to sickbay" he ordered, rubbing the back of his neck.

...

The sound of quiet, short beeps drew Jim back into consciousness. Something was on his face, making him feel stuffy and uncomfortable.

Cracking his eyes open to see the enemy over his face, realisation clicked that it was only an oxygen mask.

_Weird, thought they didn't use masks so much these days?_

"Best if you take that off, Jim, don't you think?"

Focusing on the haze figure in the distance, Jim tried to see who the voice belonged to.

He lazily pulled off his mask, leaving it hanging under his chin. His vision swayed, until the voice spoke again.

"That's good, Jimmy."

The figure instantly surfaced.

 _Frank_.

Immediately, Jim became rigid, shoving himself up to the head of the bed, breath caught in his throat.

" ** _Stay away_** ," he demanded feebly, "How did you get on board?"

"I thought I'd invite myself on, just wanted to see you, Jimmy."

Bile travelled up to his throat.

Nausea set into his stomach.

"Get the fuck away from me." he spat.

"Now now, Jimmy, you know what happens when you curse at your uncle Frank," the man strode toward him, and all sense of authority and control left the young Captain.

Alarms blared out from both sides of him, his vision blurring as he forced breathes in and out, uncontrollably.

"Can't have kids treating family that way, can we?" the man reached up to Jim's neck.

Gurgling for air and spluttering out saliva as his throat was squeezed shut, he vomited all over himself, his body shooting in an upright position automatically to get rid of the fluid. Recovering from that ordeal, desperately looking around, Frank was nowhere to be seen.

The alarms penetrated his ears, overwhelming him with noise.

Louder.

And louder.

And screeching, screaming, high pitched wailing.

" _ARRRRGH!!”_ Jim screamed into oblivion, trying to get rid of the noise. He could out-scream the alarm.

As he took in a breath to scream again, Jim felt himself fall backwards, as if waking up from a dream.

Staring up, he saw the ceiling, with another man wearing blue looking over him, scowling, but with deep worry. Rough hands were on his face, he could feel them. The man's mouth was moving but no sound came out.

Jim whimpered pathetically, kicking his legs to get out of free of the man’s grip, to no avail. To make matters worse, the horrible man pulled the dreaded suffocating mask back over his face.

Great, now he really was going to run out of air and die.

His eyes burned, he struggled to breath, and with weak exhaustion attempted in futile to lift his arm, to get rid of the offending murderous mask, but the hand holding his arm down was forceful, too strong, Jim couldn't move, and he was still suffocating.

He panted, out of breath, hyperventilating, vision blurred over and dots danced in his retinas, Jim screamed and bellowed through the mask that muffled his voice. He grew exhausted, even more than before; crying, panicking, hyperventilating and gasping for life.

A cold sharp metal collided with his thigh, he suddenly inhaled sharply in shock, then it happened again at the centre of his neck. Startled, and terrified, Jim couldn't help his body involuntarily vomit again, moaning at the sensation and shredding hot tears. Bile dribbled out the side of his mouth, as he groaned.

Suddenly, two warm hands clasped the side of his face tightly, the fingers then gliding over to position themselves. Jim choked through short breaths as more saliva built up in his throat as he failed to groan in protest, then the fingers pressed harder; everything vanished.

…

He felt nothing.

Saw nothing.

No breathing.

But he was cold. Shivering. Violently.

"Jim, you must calm yourself." a steady voice washed over him. What the hell?

"I apologise for startling you. I have initiated a mind meld, there was no other choice, as communication with you was ineffective."

Realisation dawned upon him. Spock.

"Wha's..goin' on?" Jim slurred, wanting to just pass out.

"Your body is currently enduring a large state of panic. For reasons unknown to me, you are not responding to Doctor McCoy's sedatives."

Jim felt himself droop.

"Frank" he stated. He was still out there.

"Who is that?"

“My uncle…”

…  
….

Moments of silence passed. Jim was beginning to think he was on his own again.

“There is no-one here, except you, Doctor McCoy, and myself.”

Oh, so he actually checked?

“But he was there a moment ago, I know he was! I was choking—he was choking me, you can’t fake that!”

A brief feeling of warmth ran over him. It seemed Spock was trying to keep him calm.

“You were having a reaction to the abnormal substances in your bloodstream. You were not being asphyxiated, in fact, you suffocated yourself.”

Jim felt confused.

“I cannot hold this state for much longer, Jim.”

_But.._

“But I saw him. I did. He spoke to me. He told me to take the oxygen mask off, I’m not fucking mad, Spock!” Jim would love to drop dead right now.

“That is the second time today you have hallucinated a fragment of your past. I shall deliver this information to the doctor.”

Jim was about to come up with a retort before everything thundered back to him at full force, not giving him even a second to come to terms with consciousness. The aching, the shrill noises, the constant exhaustion, the feeling of dread, pushed back into him all at once.

 

But when he opened his eyes, there was Frank, holding a knife at McCoy’s throat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running out of ideas as to Jim's declining condition, McCoy finally takes matters into his own hands and makes a deal with the Klingons. Jim decides he really doesn't like needles. Like, at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos, it really motivates me to see you enjoy it!  
> Warning here, for a slight description of needles, if you're squeamish. Also, swearing.

Jim gazed horrified at Frank.

 _This man is my problem_. He told himself.

_If anyone gets hurt, it'll be on my conscience. Can't let that happen._

With one loud shriek, Jim bolted up from the biobed, faster than a shot bullet, toppling over to Frank, much to McCoy's surprise, swiping his hands around wildly to reach the foul creature that was his Uncle.

McCoy looked concerned, and it didn't seem to be for himself. It was almost like Frank wasn't even there.

Jim rammed himself into McCoy's side to break Frank away from him.

Frank went skidding across the floor, one heel digging into the marble with a _thump_.

"Don't you dare go near him again, or there will be hell to pay." Jim hissed menacingly at Frank.

…Moments of silence followed…

"Jim, there ain't nobody here.." McCoy softly told him. "Lie back down now, kid."

Jim ignored him. What he was seeing was _real_.

"Come on Jimmy, don't you want to fight?" Frank taunted him from the ground, "I'll show you how to fight like a _man_ ,"

Frank darted across the floor, then in one precise swoop, elbowed him in the abdomen.

Jim yelped and plummeted backwards, clutching his stomach in pain, feeling his energy draining from him fast. He peeped open his eyes to find where to plan his attack, but Frank was gone. A sudden sharp pain caught him off guard, like being stabbed with a frozen knife.

He shut his eyes, moaning through each burst of pain, one after the other, every few seconds, like a pulse.

As Jim begun to regain control, he opened his eyes, finding he was staring up at the ceiling. To the side of him was Bones, kneeling with a scanner of some sort, medkit scattered across the floor. Spock was standing over in the corner, watching him.

"Bones?" Jim muttered, squeezing his fingers harder over the skin as the burning grew worse. He thought about showing where it hurts, but he decided he dare not move his hand. "Frank punched me.." he said, almost only to confirm it to himself.

A sigh next to him from Bones, made Jim want to run away from every human on the ship.

"Your abdomen is fucked," McCoy declared without looking up, "And Frank is not here, Jim!"

_Great, now Bones hates me too._

Bones brought out what Jim recognised as a hypospray from his med kit. Jim shook his head in fright.

"No," he squealed, kicking his legs to push himself backwards across the floor, "Get away from me with that thing!"

A firm hand grabbed his arm, pulling it closer.

"Sorry Jim, but I've let this go on long enough," McCoy stated, plunging the device into Jim's arm before he could react. 

He abruptly gasped in surprise, staring at Bones in betrayal.

" _How dare you?"_ he breathed in shock.

Spock took this as the time to also kneel down, as elegantly as physically possible, and ensure Jim wouldn't make a run for it.

 

Several minutes had passed, and Jim didn't feel any different. His stomach was still burning, he was still wide awake and wanting to run as far away as possible.

Jettisoning himself out the nearest window seemed like a hopeful possibility.

"I don't understand," McCoy finally said, "You should be asleep by now.."  
Jim shrugged, wincing at the twinge in his abdomen.

"This did not work previously either, doctor." Spock reminded him.  
McCoy shut his eyes and grunted in exasperation.

"Those Klingons still in range?"

"I predict a possibility of eighty five point-"

"Are they in range?" McCoy pushed him.

"There is a high posibility, however, I cannot be certain."

Jim listened to the men talk amongst themselves, not daring to move on case he aggravated the pain.

"Get them on sickbay's view screen, I want to speak to them."

Spock's head tilted. "May I inquire as to why you request this?"

"Yeah. I bet this all has something to do with what they drugged him with," McCoy explained, but then turned back to Jim, "Speaking of, I need that blood done. Back to bed with you."

Jim froze.

"I can't," he whispers pathetically.

McCoy's rolled his eyes. "And why not?"

Jim swallowed hard. He knew what Bones was going to say after this.

"My um.. abdomen hurts. A lot. Like really a lot." he inhaled deeply, "It fucking _hurts_ Bones."

McCoy's eyes fixated onto the hand Jim was holding over his stomach.

"Let go, let me see," he urged, prying Jim's fingers away from the skin.

Jim sucked in a breath as his shirt was pulled up; McCoy was frowning so hard that the scowl could burn a hole through the ground. He pressed a hand over it, glanced at his tricorder, and looked back to Jim.

"God. You've had some cowboys in here. The entire lining of your stomach is damaged, a lot of damaged tissue and muscle," he shook his head and blinked to Spock.

"Get him back on the biobed, will ya? I believe I have a session with honour," McCoy nodded towards the perplexed Vulcan, and stormed out the room.

Jim watched him leave curiously, shivering as Spock's hands grabbed onto him and hauled his body up and dragged it over to a biobed.

"G-god!" he spluttered, immediately squeezing his stomach again. Spock merely glanced at him, and walked away.

" _Thanks_ " he muttered sarcastically.

_That fucking hurt._

Spock didn't respond, only sat on a nearby chair and begun glaring at a PADD. Probably sifting through a million reports.

Sighing, Jim carefully rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, allowing himself to melt into the pillows, willing himself to sleep.

His wish was his command, as he finally drifted off into peace and tranquillity moments later.

…

McCoy dragged his hand down his face, mid-conversation with the Klingon. In his office, he was having a conference with the Klingon, to come up with some sort of agreement, using a holographic image. The Klingon was being persistent.

“That is my only demand, ape!” it shouted through the muffled audio, “You assist the Klingon empire, and we shall aid your Captain!”

McCoy shoved his face into his hands and groaned. This would be violating every god damn Starfleet regulation.

Well, most of them anyway.

“So uh, let me get this straight,” he shut his eyes momentarily, exasperated, “You want a shuttlecraft, and then you’ll heal the Captain?”

The Klingon roared. For some reason. It was a simple question, damn it!

“This is the only arrangement that I will agree to! Your shuttlecraft for your Captain!”

McCoy sighed. With access to the shuttlecraft, that Klingon, and god knows how many other Klingons they could fit on board, would invade Federation territory.   
But on the other hand, McCoy could always take note of the shuttle they take and inform Starfleet command..

But only if Jim was safe first. You can _never_ trust a Klingon.

“Okay, here’s the deal. You heal our Captain first, so we know you’re not bluffing. Then we’ll give you any shuttlecraft of ours that you want. But **_ONLY_** if you heal our Captain first.” McCoy put on his best authoritive tone.

The Klingon seemed to consider this for a moment, then spoke to his comrades next to him.

“Very well, _Doctor_ McCoy,” he spat. “Transport me onto your ship and we shall carry out our arrangements. I get my first officer to send the co-ordinates to your vessel.”

Then the transmission ended.

McCoy collapsed onto his desk. He was violating a million rules right now, but what would Jim _not_ do for _him_?

….

"Ughh..." Jim groaned on awakening. His entire body was weighing him to the bed, fatigue clouding his mind. No clear thought passed through.

Jim felt so god damn tired.  
So...weird. It all felt surreal, as if he was dreaming. His body hovered, motionless.

"Uuugghh..." he repeated, making sure everything was still real.

Two hands pressed onto his shoulder that confirmed it.

"You must drink, Captain." an authoritive voice said, as if Jim wasn't the Captain at all.

_I don't want to drink, I don't want to move._

_Go away._

He opened his eyes, finding Spock peering over on top of him. His sight blurred into a jumble of nothing, and so did his brain.

"Mmmmrghh.." Jim groaned, falling down into a pit of darkness once again, his eyes fell shut.

 ...

Muttering of voices was the first thing Jim heard this time. It felt like it had been a while.

_Can't anyone shut up and let me sleep in peace?_

Jim was dragged out of his frustrated thoughts when a hand closed around his forearm, clasping it tightly. Moments later, something cold dripped onto the crook of his elbow, and then another strange metallic feeling sensation spread it across his arm.

Confused, Jim cracked open his eyes, and immediately saw Bones standing beside him, his own arm stretched out on what he supposed was an arm rest unless Bones has really high legs.

"Wha'y doin'" Jim slurred, rolling his head to the left to see his arm properly.

The tip of a needle was pressed against Jim's skin. Not puncturing it, just pressing down on it.

"You feel that?" Bones asked.

Knowing what was going to happen, Jim felt hot bile travel up his throat, threatening to take control. He shook his head at Bones' question.

"Right. Well you've not been eating or drinking so I'm gonna have to set up an IV bag until you do," he clarified, which was followed by a sharp pinch in his arm as the needle was inserted, _without his god damn permission._

He tapped it a couple of times and stood back to admire his work.

"All done." he announced, whipping off the latex gloves and walking off out of Jim's line of vision, leaving him to observe the intrusion in his arm. He dragged his heavy arm off the armrest and plonked it back over his chest. The sounds of movement and beeping behind him irritated Jim a little.

 _Must be putting up the IV bags,_ he realised.

_Can I please have 22 gallons of alcohol?_

Sighing, Jim began closing his heavy eyelids, yet again embracing the nothingness that was sleep.

...

The third time Jim woke up, he felt as if he'd been for a dip in the pool. Sweat covered his head, neck and legs, making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. The gown stuck to him like glue, blankets covering his body radiated heat from him.

Jim groaned in frustration.

_Must have a fever._

"Captain?" Came Spock's voice. "Are you well?"

"Rgnnn.." Jim grunted, "Don't feel it."

Spock remained quiet for a few seconds, but ultimately was thinking. Logically.

"I will inform the doctor of your wakening and discomfort." he confirmed.

Jim forced his ten-ton eyelids open, gazing at the haze of blue and white. As his vision cleared, he saw Spock's hand hovering over a button, looking deep in thought.

Jim too sucked himself unwillingly into a world of thinking.

_How long had he been here?_

_Who was in command?_

"Jim!" Boomed a voice from behind him, as Bones walked to the foot of his biobed, "How you feelin'?"

_Mighty fine. Wide awake. Fit as a fiddle._

"I'm hot and tired," he admitted, plonking an arm across his forehead.

"Yeah? Well your temperature is up to 104 degrees F," McCoy dragged a scanner across his body again. "How'd you sleep?"

_How long **have** I been asleep? _

"How long have I been here for?"

McCoy hummed, tucking the scanner away and staring at what Jim supposed were his vitals.

God, he hated being so exposed. Everyone could see when his feelings were changing from his heart rate, his temperature, his pain levels, organs, respiration, it was like being a live museum masterpiece that was kinda broken.

"Uhhh, I'd say about four days?" McCoy answered, returning to him with a glass of water. "Drink up."

"But I'm not thirsty!"

"Drink it. The longer you avoid drinking water, the longer I'm keeping that IV in."

Scowling, Jim snatched the glass off him and eyed it suspiciously.

With a nod from McCoy, he gulped the whole thing down at once.

"Happy?" Jim mocked him, shoving the glass back into his hands. McCoy smirked.

"Happy."

 ...

The next time Jim woke up, he didn't even realise he fell asleep. Physically he felt a lot better though.

Opening his eyes to the light, Jim almost jumped out if his skin when he saw a Klingon standing in the room with him.

"It's alright," McCoy reassured him, "He's allowed on here."

Jim's blood run cold.

A Klingon on his ship?

"Why?"

McCoy patted his shoulder.

"We agreed in the conference that we'd give him a shuttlecraft if he cured you first," he explained. Then leaned in towards Jim's ear.

"We'll alert Starfleet so he won't get anywhere."

Jim nodded, shutting his eyes to sleep again. But with a Klingon in the same room as him, his body remained on fight or flight mode.

"This is the chemical we used." A low growling voice emitted. Jim's eyes bolted open to face the Klingon, holding a rather large supply of bottles.

His stomach did flips as his torturer stood over him, giving him evil looks every now and then.

 _I'm safe here,_ Jim reassured himself.

_I'm safe with Bones._

"I will give him the antidote, for your shuttlecraft."

McCoy squared his shoulders.

"Cure him first and we will give you what you want."

The Klingon scowled.

"Leave the room!" he roared. "If I am to use this antidote, I do not want others to see what it is, and that is my only way of working I will agree to!"

Jim's body went rigid.

_Don't leave me in here alone with him._

McCoy and Spock looked tense, but McCoy sighed, Jim knowing he'd given in.

"If you try anything, we'll kill you on sight." he said, then glancing to Jim, making him aware that he would still be safe. “Security is just outside, and so are we.”

After a few glares all around the room, everyone reluctantly left the room until it was just Jim and the Klingon.

"So."

Jim gulped.

"Did you really think I'd do all of this just for a lousy shuttlecraft?" The Klingon boomed. "Now that I am here, I shall take the Enterprise."

Jim wanted to throw up, but didn't want to give the enemy the satisfaction.

He walked over to the head of Jim's biobed and beyond, tampering with the controls, making Jim nervous.

"If you make a noise, I'll shoot all your crewmates." The Klingon threatened. "Especially that Vulcan. He is _infuriating_!"

Jim remained silent, turning his head to see what the Klingon was doing. To his horror, the IV bag was being emptied down a sink, and was being refilled with the chemical. Bottles and bottles of it being poured into the bag.

Jim gagged in fright.

"No, don't do this," Jim pleaded, unnaturally. He never pleads with anyone. "They won't give anything to you if I'm dead."

The Klingon's laugh sounded across the room.

"It will not take action until much later. As you have already experienced." The Klingon then leaned forward and tightly choked Jim's neck.

" _Do not tell anyone of this. Or their death will be on your conscience._ Without honour!"

And with that, stomped out the room.

....

Jim's breath hitched in his throat, frozen with fear.

_I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die-_

"Jim!" McCoy burst into the room, taking in all of Jim's newly distorted heart rate. "Are you okay? What's he done to you?"

Jim shook his head; hands gripped firmly on the blankets, couldn't stop himself from shaking.

God, he felt so weak!

"Shh, shhh," McCoy slid Jim's hand into his, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb.  
Realisation slowly hit Jim.

That chemical was being poured into bloodstream constantly. The chemical that he only had 3 small vials of, that made him collapse into a seizure on the bridge, made him hallucinate for a week, gave him stomach pains and abnormally fearful. Now there was about 20 bottles worth flooding his system.

A sudden gasp escaped his lips, feeling the signs of a panic attack setting in.

"Alright, alright," McCoy pulled the biobed down flat into a vertical line with a snap of the metal.

"Bones..."

After a gaze at the vitals, Bones leaned forward and wrenched something off the wall, which turned out to be the dreaded mask, firmly being pressed onto his face. He wanted to struggle, but god knows he was too afraid to move.

"Take some deep breaths of this," he muttered, "What's happened? What did that bastard do to you? He didn't give you an antidote did he? My god, what was I thinking, trusting a Klingon.."

Jim felt a pang of guilt with the expression currently on McCoy's face. He grimaced.

"I can't... tell you.."

"Sure you can, go ahead. You can tell me." he smiled.

Jim took in a shaky breath and looked away. He shuddered nervously in the silence.

"Jim.." McCoy whispered carefully. "I need to know what he's done. Your oxygen saturation has dropped to 91 percent, you have an arrhythmia and your respiratory rate is climbing, not to mention your pain indicator."

_I can't let him die because of me._

"I can't tell you, Bones."

"Why not?"

"That Klingon said he'd kill all the crew members.." then he cracked a lazy smile, "With an emphasis on Spock."

McCoy scoffed, "Not surprised, Spock gets on everyone's nerves," but his face dropped, "Come on Jim, you _need_ to tell me."

Jim shook his head, shutting his eyes to accept his doomed fate.

"Right then, looks like I'll have to do this myself. Nurse!"

Jim's eyes flew open again at the sudden pace.

Chapel came in first. "Doctor?"

"I want Jim's blood drawn, the usual amount."

Chapel nodded and made her way over, and immediately Jim reacted badly.

"Don't touch me!" he yelped, having de ja vu from a few days ago

"Don't be silly, this won't take long," she says, gripping his arm harder than Jim could muster the strength up to overcome her with.

"You don't have my permission!" he almost squeaked. Chapel tried to wipe the smile off her face. She spread his wrist with an antiseptic and took a hypo from the tray.

"You don't like needles so we'll use the hypospray instead," she informed him. Jim glanced over Chapel's shoulder to McCoy, who was watching from a safe distance, a smile plastered on his face.

" _This is mutiny_!" he yelled, gathering up the strength to thrash around, in hopes it would eventually push her away.

"Settle down now, this won't take a second," she told the vibrating man.

With a huff, McCoy came over and wrenched the Captain straight. He shook his head at Jim's sulky expression.

"Okay, relax your arm-- there we go..."

Jim remained pouting throughout the entire procedure.

Finally, Chapel set the hypo aside, and Jim wanted to smack the smirk right off McCoy’s face.

“It’s not funny.” he muttered under his breath.

“Hell yeah it is. Don’t think I’ve seen anyone react like that since—“

“Since med-school, yeah,” Jim folded his arms across his chest.

McCoy scowled. “Send that off to the labs, put priority on it.”

 

Jim, frustrated, turned over on his side, away from McCoy.

“Hate you, Bones” he mumbled.

“Hate you too, kid.” McCoy replied, with a pat on his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When has inviting a Klingon onto the ship ever been a good idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took, I'm finishing up college!  
> As usual, I don't own star trek or the characters, only the letters in this fiction.

One week later, Jim was still held up in sickbay, and he was getting pretty sick of it to say the least.

There was no reaction to chemicals, and McCoy still didn't know anything about them. Jim was the only person on board aware that 22 bottles worth of poison was flooding his bloodstream.

"Booones" Jim whined, "This is getting ridiculous now, I have a duty on the bridge!"

The sound of a PADD being slammed down echoed across the room.

_Uh oh._

"Like hell you do! I can't find anything.. anomalous in your blood, and as long as I can't, then I can't make a cure, and if there's no cure, you're not going anywhere." McCoy professed from the back of the room. The two men were the only people in sickbay, barring the nurses who were just sitting in offices.

"But it's making me miserable!" Jim complained.

"Well, be miserable in silence, some of us have work to do."

Jim gave McCoy the stink-eye, and wriggled back down under blankets to be in solitude.

He felt fine! Absolutely nothing was wrong!

The doors hissing announced Chapel into the room, holding an undamaged un-slammed-against-the-table PADD and handed it to McCoy.

"What's this?" he took it from her, eying the notes.

"Test results.." Chapel confirmed sceptically.

**_Slam._ **

"All negative!" McCoy yelled in frustration. "God, by the time I get any information on this damn thing, the entire quadrant will be infected."

"Bones," Jim began.

"Don't you start," McCoy warned, tossing the PADD back to Chapel.

"Maybe that Klingon did cure me. But it was just painful?" he offered. "Now it's you who's holding me hostage!"

Chapel apprehensively piped in, "Maybe he's right. There's been no signs at all, he's pain free now, the only problem he has is his impatience." she informed him. "Technically, he has every right to be given the all clear, doctor," she added quietly.

"Alright! Alright. God." McCoy stood up from the chair, walking to Jim to unhook his IVs.

"The first sign of trouble and you get your ass back down here." he ordered, tugging an IV out Jim's arm.

He offered a huge grin, and wasted no time hopping off the biobed and marching out the door, clothes in hands and all.

..

 

Back on the bridge, Jim plonked himself comfortably on his beloved Captain chair. All the bridge officers were staring at him. Except Spock, who was staring at everyone that was staring at Jim.

"At ease," the monotonous voice of the Vulcan sounded. Everyone took one final glance at the Captain and turned away to their station.

"What's our current route, helm?"

"Ahhh.. I cannot say zat, Keptin.." Chekov nervously muttered. Jim squinted suspiciously.

"And why not?"

"Em.. eet is not authorized for you to read, sir.. Doctor McCoy says so,"

Jim slumps back in his seat. If he wasn't allowed to know then it must be something to do with himself.

"Captain?" Uhura's voice asks from behind. Jim spins round in the chair to face her,

" _Woah_ " he mutters, as the blood rushes to his head. "Uh.. yes Lieutenant?"

"The Klingon vessel is following us, they've just uncloaked,"

 

Jim's world came to a stand-still.

 

"They are... requesting for their Captain back?" Uhura asked in surprise.

 

_Did you really think I'd do all of this just for a lousy shuttlecraft?_

Jim hears the echo of the Klingon's threat in his head from just days ago.

_Now that I am here, I shall take the Enterprise._

Ignoring the swirling anxiety in his gut, Jim shoots angry looks at each officer.

"The Klingon was still on board..? Their ship was following us for a week and _no one noticed?_!" he bellowed, hands gripping the sides of the cushioned arm rests.

_This chemical is used as a Klingon punishment!_

"With all due respect Captain, we cannot track a cloaked vessel," Sulu defended himself.

 ** _Bang!_** Jim threw a fist at the chair, colliding with force.

" ** _Get that Klingon off my damn ship_**!" the Captain roared, but winced as sudden pain hit his gut for a mere second.

 _Need to stop yelling,_ Jim thought.

"Spock to security, locate and stun a Klingon whom is hiding on this ship."

Jim nodded to Spock in approval, and spun around to face the front again, once again losing focus temporarily.

" _Crap_.." he mumbled to himself, waiting for his eyes to regain focus, taking note of the ache sinking in to his stomach. Shooting stabs of pain went up his spine, he twitched in surprise, the same thing happening again.

He folded his legs over each other.

Another burning sensation around his gut surfaced.

"Security is apprehending the intruder" Spock's voice dragged his attention away.

"We're being hailed by the Klingon ship," Uhura announced.

A spasm running through his back forced a surprised gasp out of Jim.

"Put-put them on.. on screen..." Jim winced again. His stomach throbbed, begging for his attention.

"Captain Kirk!"

Jim glanced up at the screen. Sure enough: Klingons.

"We're locating... your Captain..." Jim breathed, trying to keep it together to avoid appearing weak. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Spock eying him intensely.

"You have 5 minutes to return our Captain or your ship shall surely be destroyed!" The Klingons threatened.

"But wouldn't he be destroyed too?" Jim bit his lip at a throb growing in his chest.

"He will die with honour!" the screen erupted with cheering. Jim breathed out forcefully.

"Okay.." he says, needing them to get off the screen.

"Ha! You see that? Our threats terrify the Federation!"

More applause.

Jim gagged at a rising nausea threatening to overtake him.

_Don't be sick don't be sick..._

"Goodbye, pathetic ape people!"

Laughter burst from the transmission before being suddenly cut off.

The millisecond it ended, Jim bolted forward and retched over his shoes.

Bad idea bad idea bad idea, he thought, as his world darkened.

And twisted.

Jim moaned, too far gone to care about his ego.

"Ugggh..."

...

Spock stood up from his station, finishing with his observation on the Captain, as his theories were correct; Jim did seem to be unwell.

In fact, was he.. sliding down the chair..?

Spock took a very logical leap over to Jim, watching him slide down to the floor in his slouching form. His chin was tucked into his neck, dribble pooled out the corner of his mouth as he slid from the chair to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Silently alarmed, Spock grabbed Jim's shoulders, and carefully pulled him closer, lowering him on the ground in a straight flat line.

"Lieutenant, comm doctor McCoy and request for him in the bridge, urgently." Spock ordered, turning Jim onto his side. The younger man's body was rigid, shoulders digging into the floor.

"Doctor McCoy to the bridge, urgent, the Captain is--"

Uhura stopped talking when all of a sudden, various forms of impacting thuds against the floor confirmed her fears as she turned to face the source; Jim was seizing again.

"Doctor!" she finally yelled into the comm.

"He is already on his way, Lieutenant." The calm voice of Chapel said over the comms.

Spock clamped Jim's shoulders to the ground, silently appreciative that his friend wasn't awake to experience a seizure this time.

Jim's body shuddered and trembled against Spock's hands, but eventually slowed down to a twitch.

Spock didn't dare loosen his grip.

"My god, not again.." McCoy suddenly appeared next to him, tricorder already in hand.

_How curious, I did not notice the doctor enter the room._

He watched McCoy's face for the signs of something serious, an emotional reaction was very common in this man.

Sure enough, his shoulders sagged, eyebrows furrowed, cursing to himself.

"Spock, roll him onto his back,"

So he did just that. McCoy pulled up Jim's shirt, and to his unannounced horror, there were purple and red bruises on the skin.

McCoy grunted, palpating the splotches present, shaking his head.

"His spleen's ruptured, there's major internal bleeding." his voice was low and with deep regret.

"McCoy to sickbay, get medical staff on standby for a potential splenectomy.” he demanded with practised calmness. "And I need a gurney in the bridge, now!"

Spock watched McCoy quietly. He seemed to be deep in thought, his face contorted with worry. Then, he turned to Spock.

"Why the hell did this happen again, Spock?"

...

Jim woke up being wheeled down a hallway on a pretty squeaky gurney. All was quiet, there were no particular rushing. He feels wide awake, and calm, strangely. Completely aware.

"Where are you taking me?" he asks. A hand tightens around his, unaware someone was holding it.

"Just try to relax Jim, you're gonna be okay," the voice was gruff and sounds forced. Jim ignored it.

The gurney turns a corner into what he supposed was an OR, judging by the equipment in there, and Jim is lifted into a table with other people waiting for his arrival. The walls are very green looking, plastered with tiles, everyone wearing green scrubs.

With some bustle of activity, a mask is pushed onto his face, instantly a gush of air going through and touching his mouth and nose.

"This is just oxygen."

"Bones?"

"You're alright Jim, try to stay calm." the voice repeated. Everyone seemed too calm. He wondered if they were keeping their composure on purpose, knowing Jim was in fact not okay. Perhaps they were trying to convince themselves of the opposite.

Some muffled talking and noises behind him, sounds of machines puffing.

Jim noticed that the smell changes in the mask into very strong strawberry-like. Jim looks up to McCoy for reassurance, and knows what he means.

McCoy turns to Chapel, mouthing some words intensely as if of importance, but Jim couldn't understand.

Chapel appears over him instead, switching hands holding the mask down.

Jim is nervous. Chapel gives him a reassuring smile.

"Just going to pop you off to sleep now, okay?"

Jim nodded, albeit apprehensive. His fingers tighten around the edge of the table.

His gut aches with anxiety. The room was so tense!

"Hey, Christine?"

Chapel looks down to Jim's paling face.

"Yeah?"

Jim paused, not sure how to ask the question without sounding pathetically vulnerable.

Though, right now he already felt both pathetic and vulnerable.

He inhaled deeply,

"What's wrong with me?"

Chapel offered him a smile, but looked back up to something at the head of Jim's table. Probably waiting for McCoy's approval.

A hand on Jim's shoulder makes him jump,

"You've down right screwed up your spleen, kid. I've gotta remove it." McCoy said instead of Chapel. "Now stop fighting it will you? I want to get this over with as much as you do."

Jim exhaled a shaky sigh.

_Come to think of it, my stomach aches like hell._

...

McCoy rubs his face in his hands, then loosely drops them, staring at the floor.

_Come on kid, just let go, damn it._

Then the movement of his patient slowly stopped.

Just as he thought Jim had given in;

"Feel weird.."

"Ugh," McCoy grabbed a hypo from the nearest tray and jammed it into Jim's neck.

"Whaaa'? Why'd...you.."

"I try to do him a favour and he still complains," McCoy grumbled, as Jim's eyes flutter shut.

……

Jim fought his way back to consciousness four hours later. And then wished he didn't as he realised how absolutely exhausted he was from sleeping.

_Better sleep some more to recover from sleeping._

"Jim, open your eyes."

_Fuck._

He cautiously cracked his left eyelid open, letting in the harsh white light to destroy his retinas. It was all a trap to blind him.

"That's not enough kid, I need to see 'em properly,"

Jim grunted.

"Too bright" he muttered, almost in a slur. He could hardly stay awake. And he felt sick. And lightheaded. And warm.

"Lights thirty percent."

This didn't seem like normal fatigue.

This had happened twice before.   
Before he..

" _Bones_ ," Jim's voice was serious, desperate.

"Hm."

"I'm gonna...that...remember earlier.." Jim swallowed down incoming deliveries of bile. "Nngggh" he groaned, leaning his head back on the pillow and breathing heavily.

"You alright?" an anxious voice distracted him.

Jim was losing grip of the world fast.

It's gonna happen again is what he wanted to say. "'Mm gonna 'appen" was all that came out.

"Uh huh," Bones' voice sounded sceptical. "What's gonna happen?"

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing instead. Bones could figure that out for himself.

Perhaps if he remained in full control... he wouldn't have a repeat of the last two seizures.

"Hmmm" he hummed to himself as a distraction. But the hot flush splayed across his forehead made him think otherwise, his arm hair standing on end.   
Jim wet his dry lips and readied himself to utter a coherent sentence.

"I'm gonna pass out," he mutters, in almost an irritated tone.

"Yeah, I can see that,"

Well that was a waste of precious brain power and oxygen.

Jim listened intently at the sounds behind him that he couldn't piece together. His eyelids weighed heavy, he blinked slowly to keep himself from shutting them.

"Gonna pass out," he repeats, half tempted to give up and fall asleep. At the back of his mind, Jim knew if he gave in, it wouldn't be a pleasant nap.

"Hold on Jim,"

Jim is holding on, just not sure how long for.

"Hurry up," he mumbled urgently, tensing his fingers into a fist.

Cold metal pressed again his neck provided instant relief. Jim let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"Better?"

Jim released his tense fingers. "Yeah.."

His ears homed in on the quiet rustles of movement behind him.

"Lab, where's my report?"

_He must be hogging the computer conns, Jim thought._

"Can't find anything worth reporting here sir, we've found nothing."

Jim could just imagine McCoy's face pinned to an expression more stoic than Spock.

"I need answers, damn it! He doesn't just burst into full seizures, hallucinations and passing out because he's got more energy than a damned newborn dog! Give. Me. Answers!"

McCoy sounded like he was about to explode.

"Bones..."

"Shut up Jim." McCoy snapped. Then he paused. "Wait," he turned around with remarkable speed, "You okay? You feelin' faint again? Gimme a second I need to recheck your--"

"Bones, I'm fine, stop yelling at the poor lab guy!"

McCoy's face appeared above his line of vision, scowling.

"You know as much as I do that you're not getting out of here until I know what's troubling you."

McCoy was right. There absolutely was no way he was going to escape.

Unless bribed.

....

"Hey Bones?" Jim called him innocently.

McCoy grunted. What could the man possibly have to complain about now?

"Remember, uh.. when I told you I couldn't say what the Klingon did to me or he'd kill you?"

McCoy scoffed, placing himself next to Jim's bed. "Yeah, what's up?" he asks hopefully. “Decided you want to kill me anyway?”

"If I tell you, will you let me sleep in my quarters tonight?"

_What?_

"Absolutely not!"

Jim's face looked heartbroken. _Poor kid. He wasn't allowed to die a slow death in his own quarters._

"But there can be someone with me. I don't care who it is, it can be the vice admiral for all I care, I just want out!" Jim exclaimed enthusiastically. "I'll tell you what the Klingon did too!"

McCoy groaned and ran a hand down his neck. Why did Jim always have the difficult questions?

At least this seemed like the only opportunity to find out what the Klingon bastard did to him…

"Okay look, if I say yes, you must have an emergency call button at all times," McCoy sighed, immediately regretting his decision.

"Deal! Deal. I'll take that," Jim's grin brought silent joy to McCoy, thinking he'd never see it again.

"Right. Now tell me what that Klingon bastard did to you."

....

Jim sat at his desk, scowling at the nurse he had never seen in his life.

" _Go ‘way_." he muttered, knowing full well she couldn't.

"I-I can't sir, I've been given a medical order to watch you.."

"Watch me?" Jim hissed. He wasn't a child. "I don't need to be watched."

"Um.. doctor McCoy says you're still susceptible to deteriorate, sir, and I must stay with you."

Jim huffed, slowly lowering his head to the desk and relishing in the cold material against his sweaty forehead.

"I need water." he mumbled, feeling the effects of the fever's desperation for the liquid.

"Hold on sir," the sound of a PADD being places on the desk, let Jim know that the water would be arriving soon.

Jim lifted his head from the desk, waiting for his vision to refocus. He thought he saw someone else in the room before he did a double take, and they were gone.

"Here you go, sir." The glass of water was suddenly held out in front of him. Jim feebly snatched it from her, shakily lifting the glass to his lips, wishing his hands would stop shaking.

"Mm," Jim happily groaned at the cold water revitalising his throat.

Until;

" _Jimmy_...."

cough-cough-- _splutter_!

" _Frank_!" he choked, shooting up and practically throwing his chair aside, darting his eyes around like a scared animal.

But there was no one there. Apart from the nurse who appeared beside him in a hurry.

"Are you alright? Captain?"

 _crash_.

The glass slipped from his hand.

"God.. sorry.." he mumbled, kneeling down to start picking up the pieces.

"I... really think you should get some rest sir," the nurse urged him, "I can help you to sleep if you want?"

Jim gave a small chuckle and sighed.

"If you plan on using sedatives, keep them to yourself," he dragged himself away from his desk and stalked over to bed. "I swear to god if you watch me sleep..."

"Oh, no no! I don't have to be here if you're sleeping, you just gonna keep this emergency call button with you," she said, handing him a remote.

He tossed it aside.

"Thanks." he grunted in such a tone that it screamed _'go away'._

He waited until the nurse checked on him one more time, then said "Lights, twenty percent!" and left the room, leaving Jim on his own.

_Thank god.  
That nurse seemed really jumpy and all over the place._

Slowly, Jim crept under the covers of his bed. But he was still wide awake. Honestly the only reason why he agreed to sleep was to get away from that extremely clingy nurse.

He glared up at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to start drooping, which they never did.

“Jimmy..” an all too familiar voice teased from somewhere around him. Jim didn’t know where, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was just _there_ , like the sound of a cinema all around you.

“Jimmy boy, I’ve brought a friend!”

Squeezing his eyes shut and wishing the voices would stop, Jim slowly forced himself to roll onto his side to meet the demands of his hallucination; obviously he wanted to be seen.

But there was no-one there.

“Jimmy! Look who I brought!”

Jim was about to push the voice off as a bad hallucination, before a tall man burst through the door. For a second, Jim thought it was Bones, but the figure wall too tall, too tight, his facial expressions too angry. Much too angry. And this was not angry concern, this was angry murder.

“Do you like him?” the surround-sound voice taunted him. “I brought Kodos!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to update! Big chapter ahead.   
> Also warning, there is a lot of profanity. Thanks for the Kudos, favourites, comments and follows!

McCoy gave an acknowledgement nod towards the doctors walking in to take over from him, working night shift. The thought of the moronic imbicile that was Jim dragged him down. If it was possible to get even more irritable than he already was.

God help the person that tried to wake him.

So, he set off out the sickbay for the first time in hours, approaching his lone quarters.

"Lights fifty percent," he ordered, waiting for the door to hiss shut before plonking onto the side of his bed. With a long sigh, he dropped his head into his hands, staying in that position for several moments.

_ping ping_

Communicator.

God fucking damn it.

He flung it open, tiredly.

"What."

"Doctor, you better come to the Captain's quarters, as soon as possible."

McCoy's heart stopped.

"Care to elaborate?" he asks, knowing full well what had probably happened, already marching out the door.

"He's in this huge state of panic, I can't calm him down sir,"

McCoy grunted, running down the corridor and ignoring the weird looks passer-by's were giving him.

"He's shouting about a 'Kodos' sir, and a 'Frank', should I get them?"

"No! For god sakes, no!" McCoy pursed his lips and slammed his hand onto the turbolift buttons. "Sedatives?"

"We've tried, there's no reaction at all,"

McCoy scowled at the communicator. "We? Who else is with you?"

"I got some of the doctors on duty to come down, but he's frantic and asking for you, sir,"

McCoy held back the urge to yell at the naive nurse and waited ominously for the lift to finish moving.

Did she even check his records?

"Get the others to step away from him, I'll be right there." he flipped shut his communicator, lift doors opening at the same time, and he stormed down the corridors like a man on a mission.

...

McCoy rushed into Jim's quarters, taking note of the amount of people crowded around him.

And the god damn screaming coming from his mouth!

"He's not a zoo exhibition, god dammit, back off!"

And so, hesitantly, the many medical staff stepped away, leaving McCoy to observe Jim's wildly out of control form. He was groaning loudly and incoherently, looking not at all like the Captain and friend he knew.

Flailing around, attempting to fight off the nurses that attacked him, he screeched incoherent words at them, eyes red with tears.

What the hell?

"Jim," McCoy sat on his bed, "What's going on?"

The younger man merely wailed something he guessed was English and used his feet to shove himself up against the wall, hyperventilating.

"What you seeing? Is it Frank again?"

Jim's eyes darted around the room and fixated onto McCoy's when he said Frank's name.

"Frank ain't here, kid, it's just your imagination."

Jim shook his head frantically.

"He's here.." he squeaked, gripping a hand onto McCoy's shoulder.

"He's.. he's.. god.. there, he's there!" Jim cried, "No! Get away from him! Don't you dare! No-- fuck you! Fuck! Stop it! Stop it!" Jim's cries were turning into roars of anger and desperation. "Stop it! Leave me! Stop! STOP!"

McCoy gently rest a hand on Jim's, that reside on his own shoulder, resisting the urge to bellow "get this asshat to sickbay!"

Instead, he asked;

"When did this start, Jim?"

He tried to grab his attention.

"He got here ten minutes ago... he brought Kodos.." Jim was gripping onto McCoy so tightly now it was starting to hurt.

Jim inhaled through tears, "Fuck off!"

"Easy now, Jim," he muttered, turning his head to gesture the other nurses away. "I've gotta make a quick call to the bridge, I'll just be over here, alright?" Bones eased Jim's hands off of him, stepping aside so he was out of hearing-reach, grabbing his communicator.

"McCoy to the bridge, helm?" he spoke softly, so that Jim couldn't overhear.

"Sulu here, doctor." came the reply.

"What's our ETA on Starfleet Medical?" he glanced over to Jim, making sure he didn't hear of where he was headed, but was facing the wall, seemingly asleep. Thank god.

"About 12 minutes, not long. How's the Captain?"

McCoy let out a gentle sigh.

Not good.

"He's completely unrecognisable," he admitted, "I need to go, comm me when we're there," he answered, flipping the device shut and pocketing it away.

Slowly, McCoy stepped back over to Jim, like a parent not wanting to wake their child.

He gently rest the back of his hand against Jim's forehead, biting his lip at the heat. So he turned around, getting the attention of a nurse.

"You, hand me that medkit." he whispered, gesturing to the box half open on the floor.

It was vital not to wake him.

Taking the medkit in hand and grabbing a hypo, he popped in a capsule with fever reducer, carefully turning Jim's head to the side. As he pressed it against Jim's neck, a quiet groan escaped from his patient's lips.

"Nnnghh..."

"It's alright, I just gave you a fever reducer," he mumbled, "You're gonna be okay."

Jim opened his eyes, they look dull and blank.

"He's still there." he says, monotonous.

"No one is--"

"Shut up!" Jim screamed, rocketing upright and flailing at thin air again. "Not you Bones.."

McCoy was about to say it was alright, before;

"Leave me the fuck alone! Be quiet!"

"Jim, listen here kid--"

"Shut the hell up! Shut up! Fuck off!" he shrieked,

"Shut the fuck up! Shut up shut up shut up!" Jim wailed through sobs, inhaling deeply again before screaming;

"Make it stop! Please, make it stop!" he howled,

"Jim, I need you to--"

"Make it stop!!" Jim wailed through breaths, "I can't stand it, shut him up, please!"

"Shh shh shh.." McCoy tried to get a word in,

"He's not g-going, he keeps shouting at me, I can't..t-take it!" Jim fought the hands that tried to help him, smacking them away.

Bones manhandled him by the shoulders flat onto the bed, for once in his life wishing the communicator would chirp.

Jim choked on breaths from the saliva building up in his throat, mumbling something under his breath while suddenly inhaling sharply every now and then.

McCoy frowned, running a hand across Jim's face with his nails, trying to draw matted hair away from his eyes.

Just then, his communicator went off. He instantly grabbed it.

"Sulu, please tell me we're here!" he breathed exasperated into the comm.

"They're awaiting instructions, sir," came the blessed answer, much to McCoy's relief.

"I'll transport down with him. Can you comm Spock and get him down too?"

"Aye sir."

McCoy flicked the device shut, watching Jim shaking like a leaf.

"We're here, Jim, we're gonna get you some help, okay?"

Jim remained absently staring wide eyed at the ceiling above him.

"Where..." Jim struggled to form a sentence with his clouded mind, "..are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe, Jim," McCoy carefully stood up from the bed, ready to leave, "Come on."

"I can't.." Jim whined, "They're still here. Don't you see them?"

McCoy shook his head no.

"I'll... I'll come with you in a few minutes.. let me be alone for a while, please,"

McCoy sighed. What was there to lose? He'd come back in after 5 minutes.

"I'll give you five, then we're going," he patted Jim on the back. "Nurse?"

He followed her out, leaving Jim in his quarters, on his own, with his mind.

...

"I just want to command my ship," Jim spoke to the wall. "Why can't you just be quiet.." he sighed and lay back down on the bed, dragging his hands across his face, the voices of horrors from his past consistently tormenting him.

"Jimmy, you shouldn't be in command of that ship," Frank hovered over him. "You don't deserve it."

"Did you... ever consider...why you've been through so much?" Kodos' voice was harsh and tormenting.

"Because I keep running into sick fucks like you." Jim hissed, clamping his hands over his temples, "Go away,"

"Poor Jimmy could never catch a break..."

Jim ignored Frank.

"Poor little boy, no one loves you. You're nothing."

Go away go away go away...

"It's no wonder half the crew on your ship is dead."

That's it.

Jim tore himself upwards and flailed wildly into the voice, rocketing across the room at his tormenters that of course wasn't there.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" he screamed at the air, "You're supposed to be gone!"

"Jim, you alright in there?" a voice from outside his quarters called.

"You're the fucking reason I'm this way!" he roared at his nonexistent enemies.

"Jim, I'm coming in."

"NO!" Jim thundered to the other side of the room, unleashing his anger at the wall.

SLAM.

An angry fist smashed a huge hole in the wall. Feeling some wires, he grasped them and yanked them out, collapsing in on himself backwards onto the floor with a cry.

He heard some rhythmic beeping from the panel, but nothing happened. No clunk, no incorrect alert and no automated voices.

It happened again.

beep beep beep beep.

...

Nothing.

"Jim?" He recognised Bones' voice this time. "What've you done?"

Jim dug his nails into the marble floor, forcing himself to hear the sharp high pitched screech as he dragged them across the surface. He slowly stood up, and started to do the same with the wall, tearing down wallpaper with sharp blooded nails.

"Jim, I can't get in, are you okay?"

He looked down at his hands; only now did he realise the blood seeping out of torn broken skin.

And how it stung.

It stung.

"Jim, speak to me. Are you hurt?"

With a bang, Jim fell to his knees, whimpering in pain. Ignoring the sounds of voices getting mixed up in his head, Jim sobbed into his yellow shirt, sobbing and gagging until the energy was drained out of him.

....

"Get this door open! God knows what he's done to himself," McCoy paced around outside Jim's quarters aimlessly.

"Jim?" he tried again.

Nothing.

"Dammit!"

"Doctor, may I suggest asking Mister Scott to use manual override on the door?" Spock was behind him, having heard the door being jammed shut and couldn't open it himself.

"Yeah.. yeah that might work!" McCoy snagged the communicator from his pocket.

"McCoy to engineering, Scotty you there?"

Static.

"As here as I always am, doctor, what can I do for ye?"

McCoy breathed a sigh of relief, "Jim's screwed up the door to his quarters somehow, medical override isn't working?"

"Ahh. Give me a moment."

And so, McCoy waited.

"You seem apprehensive doctor," Spock acknowledged.

"Of course I'm apprehensive you green-blooded imbecile! Jim's in there in god knows what state and I can't tell if he's dead or alive!"

"Judging by the fact that he has, as you put it, 'jammed the door', I theorise that Jim is overwhelmingly angry right now."

McCoy scowled.

"Yeah, no shit."

The communicator chirped. McCoy grabbed it and flung it open without a second passed.

"McCoy here."

"Doctor, the entire door to his quarters is non-functional. It's as if he took the wiring in his own bare hands and ripped 'em out!"

Damn it.

"What are our options?"

"I can either send an engineering team down to repair the door, or cut him out of there with a phaser myself."

"I'll go with the latter. Get down here as soon as possible," he flipped it shut, turning to the others.

"I hope to god he's still alive by the time we finally get in the damn thing."

"Doctor, I'm getting lifesigns from inside the room." Spock held out his tricorder.

"And?"

"They are fading."

....

Jim was vaguely aware of his surroundings, although most was covered with darkness. The voices had seemed to have faded to a low hum; they were there but he couldn't tell what they were saying.

An arm managed to move from the floor sluggishly, and flopped onto his torso. It was bleeding, he could tell, because his wrist was becoming damp.

Can I get help?

Jim doubted the chances for his survival. Now aware and back in control of himself, he realised the wires he wrenched out of the wall were to the door.

Eventually, he lost the will to stay awake, whatever reason there was to not fall into comfy darkness was missing.

So, he let his eyes droop, until he was floating, and there was nothing.

...

Clunk.

"There we go!" Scotty admired the huge hole in the wall. "Get in there an' find him."

"Yeah.." McCoy breathed, stepping through the gap with a med kit in tow.

He found Jim lying pale as a sheet on the ground, from a distance it was obvious his breathing was laboured.

Bones stepped over his battered form, kneeling beside him, the medkit cluttering the floor.

He lay a hand on his cheek.

"Jim?"

No response.

Bones gripped Jim's arm, firmly rubbing up and down with his thumb to get a reaction.

"Jim? Come on kid, wake up,"

"Mmnnghh..."

"That's it, come on back to me,"

"B'nes..."

"S'alright, I'm here,"

At least the idiot's awake.

McCoy took the moment to examine to younger man for injuries.

His hand was bloodied at the knuckles, his torso soaked the yellow shirt in red. Left wrist had blood stains.

First thing's first, rule out any serious injury.

"Jim, I'm gonna cut off your shirt so I can get a better look at what the hell you've done to yourself,"

A slight smirk graced Jim's face.

"M'gonna need... new shirt..."

"Hell yeah you are," McCoy grabbed the scissors from the medkit and tore through the yellow shirt material with ease. He tossed the shreds aside, immediately reaching for the medical scanner when he saw his abdomen.

"You've reopened your stitches, you moron," he muttered, hovering the scanner over Jim.

"Not as bad as it looks, need to get your arse down to medical."

If Jim had an objection, he didn't say anything.

A communicator chime forced Jim to open heavy eyelids.

"McCoy to transporter, lock onto my signal and beam down three to the surface."

"Three, sir?"

"Yeah. Spock, Jim and myself. Hurry up."

The men were engulfed in yellow particles shortly after, reappearing in Starfleet Medical.

On the floor. A white marble one at that.

Which too fell victim to Jim's blood.

I'm not paying for the god damn blood stained floors.

"Spock, try find someone to help us," McCoy ordered, pushing two fingers against Jim's carotid artery. Apparently he had decided to pass out again.

Damn it, he's falling asleep more than he did at the academy.

" _Wake up you idiot_ ,"

...

Jim awoke with a start. His stomach was reeling.

_Oh god._

"Bonss'" he slurred, still feeling weak and extremely dizzy.

"Oh, you're awake. How do you--"

"I don't feel well,"

"Woah, okay, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Sick" he croaked, wearily looking around for something to throw up in.

A basin was brought to his mouth.

"Here;"

Jim instantly vomited... well nothing. He hasn't ate in weeks. There was only the IV giving him what he needed.

"Better?"

Jim nodded. "Still feel like I'm gonna be sick,"

Bones turned away for a second, digging into a tray of instruments next to his bed.

"This is for the nausea," he announced as a hypo was brought to his neck. He didn't try to fight it, relieved at the instant relief as the hissing started.

Jim glanced around at his surroundings.

_This isn't sickbay._

"Where'm I?"

"We're at Starfleet Medical."

Jim's eyes shot open.

"Relax-- we couldn't figure out what was happening on the ship, so we've come to get help, that's all."

"Thanks" he muttered, ready to go back to sleep.

"No problem kid, just rest now."

So he did.

...

"He's asleep again," McCoy stated with no surprise in his voice, "I'm gonna check in on the labs. Don't leave him alone."

The nurse in the room smiled.

"Don't worry, I won't."

....

"Don't do this," Jim inhaled at Frank. "I'll be good, I swear!"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

"I'm sorry!" Jim cried, curling into a ball to defend himself. "Don't hurt me!"

The door flew open, several nurses flooded in, warned of the sudden spiked heart rate.

"If I don't teach you a lesson, how you gonna learn?" A hand raised above him, unleashing a crack upside the head.

Jim whined quietly; his temples hurt.

"Captain-- Jim, are you okay, sir?" A nurse was beside him, Jim hadn't noticed. And he still didn't notice.

"When-"

_whack._

"Will-"

_whack._

"You-"

_whack._

"Learn-"

_whack._

"Stop it!" Jim screeched, holding his hands in front of him in a protective position.

"Stupid fucking child!" Frank elbowed him in the stomach, Jim yelped in pain, bolting upright.

"Leave me alone, I'll be good!"

"Sir, you really need to lie back down..."

"I'm so glad I'm sending you away to Tarsus IV, you useless rat!"

At that, Jim vomited over himself, seemingly unable to stop hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

And his head hurt and his eyes and everything hurt.

"You're a smart one, aren't you JT?" The sound of Kodos made Jim gag.

"That girl had to be executed for the good of the colony."

"I hereby declare that I, Kodos, execute these four children for the good of the planet."

"Stop wriggling, this experiment will help the colony people form a correct way to live without food."

"Tug again and I'll tighten the restraints so hard your wrists will blister."

Jim was hyperventilating, in a ball on his side, trails of tears flowing, sobbing and screaming for the torture to end.

"S-stop.." Jim choked, gagging through the saliva pooling in his throat.

There were white noise surrounding him, only the voices of Kodos and Frank were allowed to penetrate his mind from the useless barriers of his ears. He thrashed on the table; he had to get away and save the other kids. They were relying on him.

So he thrashed harder, fighting against hands that were all over him, grabbing his arms and legs; pushing down his chest.

But it was no use. Jim spun his head to the side and bit into the arm that held his chest down. The captor yelled curses, backing away. A pair of hands clasped his face, holding his head so still and tight that Jim couldn't move.

He sobbed.

This wasn't ever going to end.

...

McCoy came bursting into the room after a 2 minute nap.   
"Jim. Jim! It's me kid, it's me, just breathe," Bones tried to hold the Captain still, but the man, despite himself, still fought.

He had been called there by the personnel that were struggling to contain him.

Jim was crying in McCoy's hands, trying to break free as if he were imprisoned there.

"Hold on, let go of his legs," he ordered the doctors.

Slowly, cautiously, they released their grip. Jim forcefully exhaled and rolled onto his side, still visibly shaking. The younger man looked breathless, and about to fall asleep. Again.   
As much as he wanted to let him…

“Jim, I need you to tell me what’s going through that head of yours,” he asked in his most authoritive voice possible at that point.

"I can't make Frank go away," Jim whispered, "I don't know where Kodos went..."

McCoy sighed inwardly and folded his arms. "Neither of them are here, Jim, nor will they ever be."

Jim looked at him as if he were speaking to an idiot.

"Frank is right behind you, Bones..."

The kid was definitely not right in the damn head.

"Frank is just part of your imagination, Jim," he was very slowly losing his patience with the man.

Jim shot up.

"Are you saying that I made up everything that happened to me?"

_Uh oh._

"No, I'm just telling you that--"

"You think I was lying when I told you how Frank punished me?"

"Jim I didn't mean tha--"

"That Kodos is one big giant lie? That I'm just pretending to get upset?"

"Don't you start pitching a fit now Jim, you know what I meant. Lie back," McCoy eased Jim back onto the bed, the younger man scowling. “It looks like you’re reliving your childhood, and we’re gonna fix that.”

Jim let out a quiet groan and shoved his head under the pillow.

_He’s not just reliving it, he’s god damn acting like one._

He placed a hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Starfleet's got this delta wave inducer, should put you to sleep fast."

Jim scowled in suspicion.

"And what will that do?"

McCoy didn't bother to answer his question before slapping it onto Jim's forehead.

"Just let the magic work. Go to sleep."

Jim shrinks under the covers and frowns.

"What if they come back?"

McCoy shook his head and headed for the door.

"They won't." McCoy sighs, stepping out the room.

And the door hissed shut.

...

Sifting through mountains of paperwork was not McCoy's idea of fun.

Rather, it was Spock's. Perhaps he should give it to him.

He wished.

Pushing the papers back and swiveling on his chair, his eye caught then bed.

Sleep feels so god damn tempting right now.

And so, McCoy stood up from the chair and paced over to the bed, plonking onto it face first.

Lovely....

Starfleet Medical to doctor McCoy.

....You've gotta be kidding me.

He let out a low growl, slapping his hand onto the comm table without moving his head.

"McCoy 'ere" he muffled into the pillow.

"Sir, the Captain is unstable again, the delta wave inducer seems to have stopped working."

McCoy wrenched open his weary eyes, rolling into his back.

"I'll be right there."

"And doctor?"

McCoy spun back around.

"Bring security. He's pretty violent."

...

Jim hid behind his legs in the corner of the room. Several medical staff were in the room but kept their distance, not sure how to approach him. One doctor was soon to be rewarded with a black eye.

"Frank, if you get Kodos to leave I'll wash your car every day without being asked.." Jim tried to reason with the two men.

A nurse tenderly stepped forward to approach him.

"Jim, darling, there's no one here but us."

The Captain scowled at the suspicion nurse. No one here but us? There were at least twelve people in the room.

"You're lying." he acknowledged, beginning to stand up again. The nurse backed away.

"It's just me, you and the medical staff, Jim."

"But Frank and Kodos are not medical staff..." he turned to face them, "Are you...?"

Frank elbowed him in the stomach and shoved him to the floor.

"Does it look like it, Jimmy?"

Kodos merely smirked.

"There would be more. But considering the people who died on this ship because of you in the last mission...."

Just as Jim launched at Kodos, McCoy stormed into the room armed with security officers.

"Get off my ship!" Jim screamed, landing a punch to Kodos' face. Both men fell to the ground.

"I'm going wherever you're going, JT."

" ** _NO!_** " he jumped onto the vile man, repeatedly hitting him, smacking his head from side to side, while the man simply smirked.

"Jim," he heard from on front of him, "Jim, you gotta stop this."

Stop himself from saving the crew? Was he nuts?

"I'm trying to save your lives! Get out of here!" he bellowed, slamming a fist into Kodos' face.

McCoy squirmed at the impact, but knelt down next to him.

"Jim, you're not doing anything but beating the shit out the ground, and the ground ain't done anything but let you walk on it," McCoy whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Kodos laughed with a blood-stained face. Jim scowled.

"What you laughing at?"

"It's funny."

"What's funny?"

"These people here are obeying me, but they won't with you."

Jim's stomach dropped.

"What... what do you mean they're obeying you?"

This time the laughter was louder and more intimidating.

"The people in here won't leave." Kodos reached a hand up to Jim's neck. "They're here to hurt you, JT. Just like I am."

Jim felt his stomach drop into a black hole.

Fury was building up inside him fast.

The whole crew..?

Siding with Kodos?

While Frank stood by and laughed?

...Mutiny?

 ** _"AAAAGHH!!_** " Jim rocketed towards and unsuspecting nurse, toppling them to the ground.

" _Jim!_ " The sound of McCoy echoed behind him, in a warning tone.

"Sir, what have I--"

 _whack_.

"You know what you did!"

"Sir, you're not making any sense!"

Jim threw her aside, darting towards another doctor. He looked alarmed the second Jim locked eyes on him, backing away with his hands up as if in surrender.

He bolted over to him, forcing a kick to the chest, watching him topple down.

Then he spun around and glared at another doctor, running towards them, screaming.

"I've got his legs," a security officer was heard saying.

Immediately, Jim was plummeted to the ground before he could react. His legs were trapped under a tight grip of a security officer.

"Fuck off!" he yelled, "This is mutiny!"

Then his arms were pulled above his head and restrained.

Jim suddenly felt sick.

"Let me go!"

"Get him onto that bed," McCoy was heard from behind him.

Jim kicked aggressively, pulling his arms and legs trying to escape, but god damn were they strong!

"Get..off me.." he panted, kicking his legs.

He felt himself be plonked onto a comfortable surface, his arms and legs being separately pulled out with rough hands.

"Use the soft restraints for now."

"Traitor!" Jim screamed, as his arms and legs were simultaneously tightened into restraints.

"This is going too far," he heard a voice behind him speak.

"You think?" McCoy's voice spat.

“Why is he behaving like this? He’s like a different person.”

“It’s the drug. I don’t know how to counteract it.”

Jim heaved, staring up at the ceiling, feeling himself beginning to hyperventilate.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

"Is there another sedative we can try?"

"You need to find one he's not allergic to. Check his records."

_InOutInOutInOutInOutInOutInOut,_

"Jim," McCoy's face peered above his, "You need to keep your heart rate down."

_InOutInOutInOut,_

"Fuck off," Jim hissed, his stomach doing back flips. He tugged at the restraints again.

_Too tight._

"Slow your breathing down, Jim."

How the hell was he supposed to do that? Converse with his lungs?

_Hey lungs, I really would appreciate it if you would--_

A breezy hissing mask was placed over his mouth and nose.

"Breathe slowly, Jim."

He kicked again.

"Get off me!" he wailed, wrenching his head from side to side to get the mask off his face, but McCoy had a tight grip.

"You found anything?"

"I'm not used to all these allergies sir."

Jim fell back with a _thunk_ onto the bed, inhaling sharply, exhaling sharply.

McCoy's face reappeared over him.

"It's alright, it's just oxygen," McCoy switched hands, "You'll feel better if you breathe slower."

Jim gagged.

"I…can't..."

Just then, a sharp pain in his left arm brought his eyes' attention to a needle sliding into his skin.

Jim wrenched his arm away, McCoy slammed his own hand onto it.

"Christ Jim, stop moving," McCoy's thumb pressed down on the syringe.

What the hell was he doing to him?

His eyes rolled around aimlessly, vision starting to go white.

Where was Kodos and Frank?

"Bones.." Jim whispered as the blackness began caving in. A warm hand pressed against his forehead.

"I'm scared.."

He thought he felt the entire room's mood change, before the darkness swallowed him entirely.

...

"I know kid, it's okay," McCoy said, watching the monitors carefully, erratic heartrate and respiration dropping to better levels.

"He's under. Again." he sighed, rubbing his face into his hands. "I'm running out of medications."

The security officers left, leaving McCoy to tend to Jim with a nurse.

"How long will this one keep him for?"

McCoy shrugged. "Dunno. He seems to almost grow immune to it after only a couple hours."

The nurse sat down, looking quite miserable. Or traumatised. Probably both.

"He said he was scared.."

McCoy sat next to her.

"He's getting worse.. I've never seen anything like it.." she added.

"He's not the Jim Kirk I know" McCoy sighed, "It's almost as if someone was taking over his body," he snickered. Then froze.

The nurse stared at him, waiting for the reply. There wasn't one.

"Doctor?"

"A _parasite_ ," he realised, eyes growing wide, "We can't find anything in the blood samples because it's not _in_ his blood!"

McCoy yanked a communicator out his belt.

"McCoy to Enterprise. Bridge, is Spock there?"

A few seconds passed..

"Affirmative."

"Spock I need you down here at Starfleet Medical," he ordered, glancing to Jim. "I have a theory."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for how long this has taken, just got a new PC and sorting things out :)**

**Also, thanks for the comments, especially you redford... again, lmao. It's always nice to know someone has read your work and the reactions from people.**

**\----**

"Like I said, I have a theory."

Spock motioned for him to continue.

"Every medication I've given him.. he's uh... become immune to it," he began, motioning to Jim's sleeping form, "I gave him stuff that'll knock out twenty Klingon's, it works for around an hour but after that; the drug does nothing to him."

"You have made a statement, what is your theory?"

McCoy shook his head at the Vulcan's impatience.

"We've only been looking for abnormalities in his blood. But what about a lifeform? A parasite? That wouldn't show up on the blood tests," he gave him a dozen sheets of paper, "Something could be absorbing the medication, using it to evolve. Think about it. The more drugs we gave him, the worse he's been getting," he explained, glancing back to Jim.

"You would have me scan him?"

"No," McCoy folded his arms and swayed in thought, "I'll do that. But I need you to analyse it once we've scanned him, because heaven knows if I spend three seconds away from sickbay, Jim goes berserk."

They both looked back to the Captain's sleeping form.

He was sure to wake up soon.

...

"McCoy.." someone was shaking him.

"Sir?"

"Doctor?"

God, this was a really weird dream.

" **Doctor McCoy!"**

McCoy gasped and sat up.

"How long have I been asleep for?"

Chapel's face faded into view. "About 5 hours. We need you in sickb--"

"Shit! 5 hours!"

It was only supposed to be a small nap!

"Starfleet has really comfy beds huh?" Chapel smiled, pulling him up.

They both headed for the door.

Walking down the corridor,

"Any news on Jim?"

"He was sleeping until about an hour ago. He's distressed but not violent," Chapel explained, hitting the call button for the turbo lift.

"I think I know what's causing it. I need to run a few scans, can you book an MRI? Do they still do those things down here?"

The turbo lift doors opened. They stepped in.

"Yeah, but there are better--"

"Better technologies, I know. But Jim's had an MRI before and I want him to have something he's familiar with," McCoy interrupted, pressing buttons on the lift panel.

"Well they're just as good for the job as any other device, just slower." Chapel stated.

The lift stopped, and hissed open its doors.

"Go on," he urged, taking out his tricorder, ready for the mess that was probably on the other side.

...

"Why the hell am I strapped down?" Jim yelled at the flustered medical staff.

"Um.. what do you remember about yesterday?" A young nurse forced a smile.

"I order you to get me out of these restraints!"

"I'm afraid we can't do that sir.."

"Get me out!" he bellowed, yanking an arm to break the restraints and failing.

The medical staff simply watched him, standing together and staring as if they were visitors at a zoo, waiting for a lion to lash out.

He kicked again, thumping back onto the bed and letting out a strained breath.

"Please, let me go," he muttered quietly.

Now I'm getting emotional, what the hell?

"It's too dangerous, Kirk... let me get doctor Mc-"

"What did I tell you about treating him like a zoo exhibition!"

"Never mind."

"Get him out these damned restraints, he's scared, not violent, you crowd of sadists!"

"It's okay Bones.."

"Hell no it's not" McCoy tore the velcro off from the wrap.

"Up," he ordered, pulling Jim into a sitting position.

Before McCoy could even begin to inform him of their theory, Jim threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around the doctor, shaking.

What the hell have I become.

"Woah," Bones said in surprise, "It's alright, are you okay?"

Jim didn't move or say anything.

Bones sighed, and seemingly had decided to humour him, slowly rubbing a hand up and down Jim's back.

"What are you Jimmy? Five?" Frank was hovering behind him.

"Put m' back t' sleep again," Jim muffled into McCoy's shirt. He heard the doctor sigh, before pressing Jim back down to the bed again.

"Actually Jim, we have to do some tests," he informed him, "How do you feel?"

"I'd rather be dead than hear Frank put me down again.." Jim admitted.

Apparently McCoy ignored his statement.

"Listen Jim, I think there's some kind of parasite in you. Chapel's booking an MRI, we'll go down there later."

Jim's breath hitched in his throat.

"You've had one before, remember?"

Jim merely continued staring up at McCoy. The man frowned, then glanced up to something beyond Jim, assumably being his vitals. The frown deepened.

"Hey, try relax kid, you're gonna be okay," McCoy told him, sounding unsure of himself. Jim didn't realise his breathing was spiraling out of control until the first wave of dizziness hit.

Jim faintly heard "Chapel!" being shouted before he passed out.

...

McCoy shoved the biobed down flat, quickly administering a sedative.

Chapel practically marched into the room, having heard the doctor's comm call.

"What happened?"

"Don't know, he's going into shock, help me sedate him," McCoy rushed the words out his mouth so he could deal with his patient.

"He's already unconscious doctor,"

"Yeah, but look at his respirations,"

He watched Chapel give a quick glance to the blaring monitors, and then turned to grab equipment from the tray.

"I'll bag him,"

"You do that."

Chapel pressed a respirator to his face.

"Come on, idiot." McCoy muttered under his breath. "Have you got that scan ready?"

Chapel nodded, "It's ready whenever you are."

McCoy pursed his lips, administering another hypo.

"As soon as he's awake, we take him down there."

They waited for a while, Jim started shaking again.

"Nnngh..." he moaned.

"It's okay, I've got you," McCoy gripped firmly on his arm in an attempt to ground him. "His respirations are still out of whack. Jim can you try to breathe slower?"

Jim didn't seem to hear or understand him.

_God damn it._

"Kid, open those eyes for me,"

Surprisingly, his eyes slightly cracked open to meet McCoy's. His breathing still sounded like a failed truck engine.

"That's good, now copy my breathing, alright?"

McCoy tried to demonstrate breathing slower to the man.

"In....out....come on, Jim, try harder... in.... out..."

Jim was practically vibrating against the biobed.

"I..." Jim tried to speak;  his eyes showing he wanted to say so much, but apparently that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"We're gonna go down to get that scan done now, okay?" McCoy said as softly as was possible for the gruff voice, "Then I can figure out what to do with ya."

Jim shook his head desperately,

"No--No, I can't, please--"

"I'll be with you the entire time. In fact, I'll do the whole procedure," Bones tried to reassure him, but Jim was staring with terrified eyes at him.

"Don't you trust your good doctor?" he teased, but Jim remained the same; hyperventilating and terrified.

"Okay," Bones sighed, standing back up and gripping the rails of the bed. "Is it possible to detach the biobed and wheel him down there so he doesn't have to walk?"

A bystanding nurse stepped in, already yanking at the bed, apparently having the same idea.

"We can, but he has to be moved onto the MRI table manually," she explained, giving a smile to Jim when being satisfied the bed was free.

"Alright, give it here," Bones grabbed the rails of the bed and started hauling it out the door. "Where's the uh, scanner room? Haven't been here since that trip with the Academy," he looked down to check on Jim; his eyes were glazed over but otherwise was fine.

The nurse walked in front of him,

"Come on."

...

"How long will this taaaake?" Jim whined, heavily on sedatives.

"As long as it takes for you to keep still," the nurse chuckled, then turned to McCoy, "What's he on?"

"Uh... something that shouldn't be affecting him as much as it is, but that's Jim for you," McCoy pressed two fingers against Jim's cartroid artery, and waited for a few seconds. "He's calm enough, go on."

The nurse pressed a couple of buttons and watched as Jim's eyes went wide; not in fear, but of curiosity. The machine began rather loudly humming, projecting output onto the monitors.

"It's making a lot of weird noises, huh?" she asked him.

"Tis' loud!" Jim almost gasped, smacking at the moving machine piece.

"No Jim, don't....ugh," McCoy pressed a hand against the wall in frustration.

"You gotta be really still, Jim," the nurse warned him.

Jim made a noise at the back of his throat but nevertheless lay still.

...

"You alright there Jim?" McCoy asked, watching as Jim's eyes followed to McCoy's voice.

It had been almost an hour, and after many attempts, they were just about finished.

"Hmmm.." the Captain hummed, eyes closed and ready to sleep for three days straight.

"We're done," the nurse announced, pressing a couple of buttons to release the clamps and set him free.

"Hmmm.." Jim hummed again.

_Was he even taking any notice?_

"Hey Jim, you gotta open your eyes now for a sec," McCoy wanted to relax his paranoid Jim-is-definitely-dying instincts.

They fluttered open, his head rolling around sluggishly.

"M'sleep" he murmured, eyelids shutting again.

"Dammit." McCoy gripped the bed rails and hauled it out the room.

...

Jim bolted upright with a gasp. He didn't notice McCoy in the room until his voice sounded in his ear.

"Ah, Jim. Scan's all done, how do you feel? Sedatives wearing off? You've been asleep for five hours, a record for you if I do say so mys--"

"Bones--!" Jim leaped off the bed and practically fell on him.

"Woah," a hand fell on Jim's shoulder, pulling him up and herding him against the bed again.  "You okay?"

Jim shook his head in desperation, heart beating out of his chest. "I don't know," he panted, eyes darting around the room, "Something's wrong, I feel weird--" Jim pushed himself out of McCoy's reach and stumbled forward.

"Bones!"

"Sit down Jim," and he was dragged back to bed with strong hands, but he refused to sit.

"Something's wrong," he repeated, staring at McCoy in the eye, "Bones--something's--I think, I don't, something, something, some-- happening, now, I don't, can't--" suddenly Jim found himself losing the rest of his breath as he was forced down onto the bed, sitting upright and still desperate to move. He struggled under firm fingers.

"Bones..!"

"Jim, sit still, damn it," he heard the doctor grumble---and just like that, the panic left him.

So he sat frozen to the spot, realising how fast he was breathing.

He shut his eyes and concentrated on regulating it.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, breathing rapidly.

There was a quiet sigh from the man standing in front of him. The hands that were locked onto Jim's shoulders released their grip.

"It's alright, Jim, it's probably a reaction, from the sedatives," McCoy reassured him, "You've been asleep for a while, its likely uh.. you were affected by the parasite while asleep."

Jim brushed it off with a slight nod, wearily swinging his fatigued legs around onto the bed and lay back with a long sigh. McCoy sat next to him, the bed slightly dipping.

"Now, what did you mean by there being 'something wrong'?"

Jim shrugged, slapping his arms over his eyes.

 _Damn; he wanted to sleep_.

When Jim opened his eyes, he found McCoy looking away from him, deep in thought.

There was silence between the two men, stretching for a few moments.

Jim was half asleep and about to give into warm comforting darkness when;

"I'm gonna go to the lab, call me if you need me, alright?"

Jim nodded, turning onto his side to attempt to fall back to sleep again. He heard the sound of McCoy's footsteps fade out and the hissing open and shut of the turbo lift, before sinking into sleep.

....

"What've you got for me?" McCoy asked, sauntering into the lab.

"Three scans here sir, I think you'd better look at this," an assistant passed him the PADD, results of Jim's scans present.

He looked over them watchful, swiping back and forth to compare the scans, analysing every detail.

Until something caught his eye.

"Can I get a close up here?" McCoy pointed to the screen, feeling his own adrenaline pumping faster.

As expected, his face dropped, shoulders sagged, pure dismay on his eyes.

He let out a breathy exhale.

_Is this an error?_

_It can't be, there's three scans, there can't be a fault on all of them._

"Can you load up any previous scans of James Kirk?"

The assistant took the PADD and began searching through for older scans, then put them both on screen for comparison.

McCoy silently placed the PADD down, shoved it aside, hiding his head in his hands.

"Sir?" The assistant asked, apprehensive, "Are you alright sir?"

"The parasite," he exhaled shakily, "I was right, there is one."

The assistant folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"And?" she asked.

McCoy raised his head and looked her dead in the eye.

"It's in his brain."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the Kudos and reviews! I love getting emails about them :)   
> Note: Some medical procedures in this one, some swearing.

McCoy wandered slowly into Jim's assigned medical quarters again, absorbed in thought with what he was going to say.

How do you explain such a terrifying prospect to someone? Especially someone like Jim, who's already on edge? He caught sight of the blonde, pulling at sheets and finally kicking them off the bed in frustration.

The thoughts of fever and temperature rattled around in McCoy's head.

Jim rolled over wearily to see McCoy and almost fell out of bed, looking dazed and not his usual spark-eyed self.

"Hey buddy," Bones sat next to him, "How you feelin'?"

Jim looked contemplative for a moment and shrugged.

"Tired and hot," a finger was pointed at the mess of sheets and blankets on the floor. Sighing quietly, McCoy glanced at the monitors overhead.

"102 F," he announced from the screen, "I've got something for that," and began rummaging in his med kit.

Jim didn't seem to mind for some reason, but McCoy caught his eyes darting around the room as if looking for a flock of birds.

" _Not now_!" Jim hissed in a low volume, cautiously trying to stay discreet.

Frank and Kodos, probably.

He jabbed a fever reducer, but Jim didn't react, oddly. As if he hadn't noticed it.

"Listen Jim, uh, I've gotta talk to you about something,"

Jim straightened up and watched him.

That got his attention.

"So, the uh, results came back in yesterday and I know what's causin' you all the trouble," he began, reaching up to the monitor and detaching it, swiping the screen left a few times, "Take a look at this," he gave it to Jim, almost anxious as to how he would react.

But Jim of course, had no idea what any of it meant. He shrugged in confusion.

_Really didn't want to say this myself,_

"Well to put it bluntly, that," he gestured to a white dot on the screen, "Is a parasite that's been sitting pretty in your head for the past few weeks."

Jim still looked confused.

_God damn it._

"I have to get it out, I'm taking you down to get the little shit surgically removed, then uh... all of this bullshit should be gone,"

Jim's expression didn't change.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The young man nodded.

"Alright..." he was hesitant, but nonetheless approaches the comm. Did he really understand?

"This is McCoy, Chapel can you get a surgery team ready and prep the room?"

There was silence for a while, supposedly stunned silence, but a reply eventually came through.

"Will do, doctor. Procedure?"

Chapel knew, but it was procedure to ask which kind they needed to set up for.

"Craniotomy," he said, glancing back at Jim, who was staring at him fiercely.

_This isn't gonna go down well._

"On it doctor, Chapel out."

The line was broken and silence befell the two men in the room.

Jim was glaring at him so intensely that McCoy pondered if a damn hole was going to appear.

"I'm not letting you do it," Jim spat, sitting up and swinging his legs around the bed, likely for a hasty retreat.

"Oh, no you don't," he launched to Jim's side and shoved him back onto the bed, "You're staying put."

Jim tugged his arm away with a stare that could kill.

"It'll put me out of work for weeks...months!"

"It's a sacrifice you're gonna have to make if you ever want to be fit for duty again."

He watched as Jim rolled onto his side. McCoy sighed, shaking his head.

"You don't have a choice, Jim."

The refusing man muttered something under his breath. McCoy rolled his eyes,

" _What_?"

Jim's hands clenched the blankets up with a fist.

"You can't make me."

"Jim, you know that I'm your chief medical officer and--"

"And that doesn't mean anything--!"

" _And_ that means I can make you do anything I want you to if it's medically necessary!"

"You can't do jack shit! You can pull me out of rank and jab me with a fucking hypospray but you can't force me into life threatening surgery without my god damn fucking permission!"

"Come on Jim, calm down now---"

"I'm not consenting to this piece of fucking shit!"

McCoy took a large step forward angrily, "Calm the hell down before I make you calm down!"

Jim froze for a few seconds, glaring at him with trembling frustrated lips, but his shoulders sagged, eyes shutting and rolling himself onto his side again.

So, he gave in; sat next to Jim, the bed dipping.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, knowing of course he was in fact not okay. Stupid question.

There was no answer from Jim. McCoy sighed, Jim's body was trembling.

_And I thought I was the angry bastard on this ship._

He put a hand on Jim's shoulder, the man suddenly jerked and the sound of vomiting was heard over the other side of the bed.

"Ah shit," he muttered, racing to the comms, "Need cleanup in 317!" he ran back to Jim, pulling him onto his side. His face was clear now; the younger man's expression was shell-shocked, dilated with fear and breathing rapidly.

McCoy reached for the nearest hypospray, checking its contents and gently pressing it into Jim's neck. Quiet groans emitted from the Captain's mouth.

"Mmmhgh..."

"It's okay."

....

"Nnmnngggh"

"I know, hold on kid."

.....

"Hnnnggh.."

"It's okay, Jim," McCoy sighed, deeply regretting telling Jim he needed surgery immediately after telling him his diagnosis.

Though he thought it would have been obvious.

....

"Doctor?" A nurse was in the room, much to McCoy's surprise.

Oh right, clean up.

"I'll just be over here, Jim," he stated, moving aside and walking to the other side of Jim so the nurse had room.

A hand gripped his sleeve,

"M'don't want it,"

"Well you can't have it till tomorrow now anyway, since you threw up your damn breakfast." he thought he caught a glimpse of a smile on Jim's face before it faded again. "I've got a date with sleep," he muttered, tossing the PADD aside. The problems of today could wait until tomorrow.

He took a final glance at Jim's peaceful form, and left to his room to catch up on sleep.

......

The medbay was excruciatingly silent, exactly the way Jim _didn't_ want it.

He lay in a biobed, listening to the steady beeping of his own heart rate-- slower than usual, he noticed. The bustling of nurses and doctors were getting louder, which meant a new day was beginning. He wished the day would take longer to come.

Jim didn't dare move. If he did, all hell would break loose; people would ask him a zillion questions, the world would start to spin and he would have to face reality.

Reality that was currently forcing him to accept that today meant he was going to throw away his entire life in surgery.

What are the chances he would survive through this perfectly without consequences?

Even a surgeon like McCoy couldn't achieve something like that. He would much rather wait it out and hope for the best, than get the procedure done and either be paralysed, in a coma, or dead. It wasn’t an extremely rare procedure, it had been done centuries ago. But this kind of procedure for a tiny little parasite hooked onto the inside of his brain?

No, he was not going to get it done. They couldn't force him.

He would keep his career and wait. _Yes_.

Although ... if Jim didn't have surgery, the parasite could get worse and life could be unbearable. Then what? He admits himself to surgery as a way to stop the pain?

Oh, who was he kidding. He was James T Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise, and he was being god damn fucking pathetic over something as small as this.

Though it wasn't small. It was large, right?

It could kill him. So, does that mean he shouldn't go?

His life will end either way. It ended when that Klingon got hold of him. Now he can't ever be able to Captain ever again, the shame of it. Will they all laugh? He will be nothing. Absolutely fucking noth--

"Jim." a familiar voice called him back to the reality he didn't want to face.

"Bones" he squeaked unintentionally, realising the slow heart rate was now racing and beeping out of control.

He watched the CMO's face drop, and for some reason sat down on the biobed with him.

"You've been cryin'."

_I have?_

"That's not like you,"

_Obviously._

"Is it 'cos of the surgery? It's not as bad as you think," Bones gently explained, "And you have a choice whether to go through it or not, remember that."

At that moment, Jim decided to let go of the rest of the control he supposedly had.

He fell into a fit of gasping tears, "That's the whole point! I don't know what to do, Bones!"

McCoy looked taken aback with the sudden drop of barriers. But a comforting arm wrapped around his waist.

"We'll figure it out, kid."

Jim released another choked sob and planted his heavy head into McCoy's shirt. He expected the man to pull away, but surprisingly, the embrace grew tighter, a hand running up and down Jim's back.

So, he continued crying, to let it out. There was no one else here to see anyway. Only Bones had ever seen him cry. The drop of his barriers and show of vulnerability was rare in the blonde if he could control it, but this time he couldn't.

"S'alright Jim, we can talk about this."

Jim snivelled and tried to get his breath back.

"Sorry..." he muttered, embarrassment sinking in.

McCoy gave a rare smile and rolled his eyes. "Wish I could've recorded that, would've made excellent blackmailing material."

Jim chuckled and shook his head.

The weight of the situation pushed back onto him, and Jim once again started trembling.

_Either way I'm probably going to have a slow death._

He let out a sharp inhale, which earned a sigh from Bones.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Jim." he said more in a authoritive tone than he appreciated.

Jim shuffled into a more comfortable position. His back was starting to ache from leaning into McCoy for so long.

Quietly, he mumbled, "I'm fucking scared, Bones..."

"I know you are, I'd be worried if you weren't."

Jim wasn't sure if he should ask this, but he did it anyway, "Can you do it properly?"

"What'd'ya mean?"

"The surgery, I mean... can you make it work?”

Jim was pulled back by Bones' hands, "Do you want the honest truth?"

_That doesn't sound good._

"Uh huh"

"It's gonna be difficult," he sighed, glancing around room for something, "But I'm not gonna let you die."

Jim nodded solemnly, arching his back with the twinge of pain running through it.

"Here," McCoy had noticed, jamming a hypo into Jim's back before he could respond, "You should lie back down."

Jim scowled at him, "Did you just knock me out?"

"Nope, it's a muscle relaxant, so I really think you should lie down."

Jim cautiously obliged; he'd probably end up flopping onto the floor, or melt, or something, knowing Bones.

They sat in silence for a while, Jim only thought about his options.

"Do you consent?"

Jim was startled back to reality,

"What? Oh..." he paused, "Um... no, not yet."

McCoy stood up from the bed, staring down the monitors ominously. He didn't seem very pleased with Jim's response but kept quiet anyway.

"Where's the food.." Jim mumbled, trying to break the silence.

McCoy turned to face him, "There's a replicator in the next room, I think," he pondered, "I don't know, this isn't sickbay."

Jim nodded quietly.

"Is it okay if you uh..."

"Yeah, Yeah I'll leave-"

"If you leave, yeah.." Jim offered a grin, but ultimately did not feel what he showed in the outside.

McCoy left the room, faster than Jim anticipated.

_He must be really sick of me by now._

.....

Tiredly slamming on the panel to his quarters, McCoy dragged himself in and flopped onto the bed. Leaving Jim on his own down at Starfleet was difficult, but would have to do if he was going to be any use in the morning.

"Doktor!" an excited voice announced from in front of him,

"Huh" he mumbled, finding Chekov was in front of him. "How'd you get in?"

"You didn't lock ze door," the kid was bouncing up and down.

Jeez.

"Jim's fine, before you ask," he lied.

"When iz he coming back?"

"Uh.... give it a couple of weeks, alright?"

"Da! Can I zee him?"

"He's sleeping right now."

The kid nodded and continued bouncing on heels. McCoy scowled.

"And?"

"Vhat?"

"Something else? I'm kinda tryin' to sleep here, kid."

Chekov looked anxious but continued looking around as if searching for something.

"Can I...help you?"

"Nyet. Ah... nice place here, doctor."

McCoy sat up and pushed the kid aside.

"Alright, what you hiding?"

"N-nothing, I just think it's nice in here,"

"Kid, what are you hiding?" he started marching out the door with Chekov close behind, "Is it Jim?"

"A-ah, Lieutenant Uhura has gone down to zee him."

McCoy spun around to Chekov and grabbed his communicator,

"You gotta be kidding me!"

The kid shrunk back, "Zorry sir.."

"Enterprise to Starfleet Medical, this is McCoy, do not under any circumstances let anyone else in the room with Kirk apart from medical personnel."

"Vhy can vee not zee the Keptin?" Chekov's voice sounded in his ear. McCoy shoved the communicator away and grabbed Chekov's arm,

"He's not well, kid, okay? He gets violent, he gets upset, he's fucked up and I don't want to risk anyone being alone with him."

"But you zed that he vas okay!"

"He's not okay."

McCoy stormed off to the transporter room.

....

The second that the door to Jim's room slid open, an arm suddenly shot out in front of him, holding him back. When he looked up, the doctor shook his head slowly at McCoy, gesturing to Kirk, who looks like he was in the middle of a nervous breakdown, accompanied by none other than Uhura.

McCoy nodded and the arm lowered.

"The hell happened?" he hissed quietly.

"Hallucinations just started again, this young lady caught the brunt of it."

McCoy grunted and stormed over to Jim,

"Out the way," he demanded, pushing Uhura aside and running diagnostic eyes down Jim.

Jim's eyes didn't recognise him, or anyone for that matter.

"Why hasn't anyone come to help him?" McCoy hissed, dragging out a PADD and wondering when he'll be able to sleep without some shitty thing happening.

"The young lady next to you told us to stay away."

McCoy exhaled irritably, "Uhura isn't a doctor, and I told you not to let anyone in."

"I can communicate with him better than they can," Uhura defended herself, looking mighty offended.

"Yeah, well Jim is mentally ill, not Klingonese," he grumbled, taking Jim's head in his hands.

"Jim? You know where you are kid?"

Jim shuffled backwards away from the CMO's reach.

"Go away"

McCoy shuffled back to him.

"Jim, it's Bones, I need to know if you remember who we are."

The Captain shook his head and tried to stand up, toppling over as soon as he put weight on a foot.

"I said go away," he crawled across the floor, then froze when Uhura came into view.

The moment dragged out, neither one of them knew how to react.

" ** _NO_** " Jim screamed, scrambling backwards to escape from Uhura. She softened her expression to show she meant no harm.

"Captain, I--"

"FUCK OFF!" he bellowed, standing to his feet again and swaying.

"Jim," McCoy crept up behind him, "It's alright."

Uhura stood up also.

"No" Jim breathed, "No no no no"

"Jim--"

"Nonononono"

"Jim, I'm Nyota, what are you seeing?"

"No"

McCoy wrapped an arm around Jim's waist and tried to manhandle him to the floor.

"No!" he cried, kicking and screaming at the arms, "I'll be good!"

"Shit," McCoy realised, "He thinks I'm Frank,"

"Get off me! I'll be good I swear!"

"Jim, it's just me buddy, it's okay,"

Jim let out a low whine and an exhausted exhale before falling backwards into McCoy's embrace and whimpering.

"It's okay,"

"No"

"It's gonna be okay"

"No"

"Uhura you mind leaving for a sec?"

The lieutenant gave a hasty nod and practically ran out the room.

"Is that better?"

"Don't know"

"How you feel?"

"Don't know"

McCoy pursed his lips and ran fingers to Jim's carotid artery.

Too damn fast.

"I'm gonna give you something to relax, okay?" he began fumbling around in his medkit,

"No"

"It'll make you feel better," he held up a hypospray, but Jim covered his neck with his arms and shook his head,

"No!"

Sighing, McCoy yanked up his shirt and jabbed Jim in the thigh with it.

" ** _STOP_** " he roared, fighting to get away from his attacker in desperation.

"Night, Jim," McCoy teased, putting the hypo away and reading his vitals off a PADD, if only to distract himself.

....

"He asleep?" One nurse asked as McCoy sauntered back towards the door.

He nodded, slumping back against the wall.

"I'm exhausted," he admitted, "This is the third damn time I've been called back after trying to get some sleep."

"Yep, you've got bags under your eyes man."

McCoy rolled his eyes and shoved his face into his hands. "I've noticed."

"I've never seen him like that before." the nurse stated, glancing over to Jim who was being brought back to the biobed by other staff.

"He's refusing surgery, I've tried to speak with him," McCoy sighed; Would he ever give into it?

Was there a way to force him to do it if the time comes?

Forcing Jim into surgery was the last thing he wanted to do, but perhaps being emotionally, mentally compromised and unstable might vote him out for being able to choose whether he has surgery or not. He pondered the thought for a second.

"We're running out of known sedatives he's not allergic to as well," the nurse told him.

"He's still becoming immune to them?"

She nodded sadly. "We'll have to start scanning his eligibility with new medications."

McCoy shook his head and dropped his head in his hand again. God, how he wanted to sleep.

"You can go back and try to rest, doctor, I'll cover for you."

McCoy looked up, "You sure?"

He didn't want to leave Jim with them, but McCoy was becoming useless like this.

"Positive. Go on, I've got this."

So, once again, McCoy gripped and dragged out his communicator.

"One to beam up," he muttered.

...

Jim awoke to the feeling of tranquillity, and something was touching his face. Skin was touching his face.

He blinked his eyes open, finding Spock above him, arms taking over most of his view.

"What'cha doing?" Jim muttered,

The hands immediately retracted themselves.

"I apologise, I was attempting to gain better understanding of your condition."

Jim let out a small chuckle and rolled onto his back.

"Uuugghh.." he moaned, his head beginning to pound again.

That was an awesome and unforgettable 20 seconds of peace that he'll remember for a life time.

"Captain, are you well?"

Jim groaned in a high pitched tone hoping it'll translate to 'yes'.

"Wha'appen?" he slurred with his eyes shut.

"A parasite has contaminated your brain."

Jim mustered the energy to toss a pillow at the wall.

"Awesome." He could hardly keep his eyes open.

"Doctor McCoy does not think so."

Jim huffed. "Of course he wouldn't," he mumbled, "Where is Bones?"

There was a moment of silence, supposedly the Vulcan was gathering physic powers that he oh so obviously had.

"Doctor McCoy has retired to his quarters."

Of course he has. Got bored of Jim, so left him alone and went to sleep.

"Thanks," Jim muttered, tucking his head under his pillow.

He clenched his fists at a tight feeling welling up in his stomach, the weird feeling in his throat.

He groaned, "Where's Bones?"

The silence was excruciating, he needed him now.

"As I have just told you, Jim, he is resting in his quarters."

"Feel sick," he admitted, breathing harshly at a hot flush. "Bones" he repeated.

"The doctor asked us not to wake him," Spock stated, who then turned and left.

Jim groaned.

_Fine, I'll throw up on these sheets so you'll have to change them._

He turned on his side to continue sulking, but his body decided it didn't like that, and he vomited on the floor. Jim sucked in a gasp he couldn’t control, tightening his grip on the sheets. He realised he was panting now, trying to get some fresh air. But it wasn't fresh, it was warm and stuffy and sticky.

"God.." he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as he began shaking, and feeling sick again.

Slowly, Jim tried to sit up, but yelped at the sudden stabbing pain in his head and keeled forward. Jim was lying on his front now, hyperventilating and gagging at the air he couldn't take in. He didn't care how stupid he looked, just that we wanted to get out.

Cold hands blissfully pressed against his forehead, then turned him on his side.

He cracked his eyes open at the nurse staring down at him, concern etched across her face.His breath hitched in his throat, denying him of any air at all.

_That's it, I'm gonna die here._

"Bones" he squeaked out, eyes wide with panic, A familiar face washed itself into Jim's vision, but it wasn't Bones. He needed Bones. He only trusted Bones.

"Bones" he repeated, which only came out as a hoarse whisper.

The face looked at his, as if analysing it, and then turned to another off his vision.

"Get Doctor McCoy," a voice muttered, and Jim recognised it as Chapel. What was she doing here?

He let out a choked cry when his chest constricted and wouldn't expand, he kicked around in panic, but it only made the feeling worse.

_Can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe,_

"Jim, you're having a panic attack dear, there's nothing internal that's causing this, you need to calm down, take some deep breaths," Chapel's voice gently told him.

Deep breaths? He couldn't even breathe!

He shook his head desperately and clawed at the sheets, a strained inhale at the back of his throat turned into a gargle.

He felt himself falling-- no, he was being pushed back onto the bed. But he was still falling.

"S-sdgghg" Jim choked, eyes rolling around their sockets.

"I'm just moving the bed back flat Jim, it's okay,"

Need to breathe I'm gonna die,

"What the hell's happened in here?" Jim heard a voice that was like music to his ears.

_Bones._

"Shit, okay, what happened? Someone tell me for god sake!"

"Respiratory distress, a severe panic attack about 5 minutes ago, he was persistently asking for you."

Jim's vision swam, black dots accompanying the blurred vision.

"B'ns"

Hands landed under his neck, then fingers lifted Jim's chin up. He shrugged to exhale, something soft being pressed onto his face. Sharp plastic was irritating his skin.

"Breathe slowly dear," Jim heard Chapel say, unable to comply with how hot he feels.

He couldn't move his head with someone holding his chin up.

"Geh-ov-mm" he slurred, thrashing around, or at least trying to.

A cold metallic feeling pressed into his neck, which was accompanied by a sharp sting. Jim yanked his eyes open at the intrusion.

"G-G-OFF" Jim choked, waving around arms to get the figure in front of him away.

Suddenly an alarm blared, Jim fell limp against the bed.

"Lungs aren’t working efficiently anymore, we have to intubate,"

A hand slipped into his.

"There's no way this is because of a panic attack, something else is going on,"

"Jim, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Jim, on the very edge of consciousness, weakly twitched his hand, but couldn't muster up the strength for anything else.

He was falling, constantly, down a never-ending hole, everything becoming further away and quiet as he was sucked deeper into blackness.

Everything was pure black. Nothingness.

"Jim, we have to intubate you bud, stop moving your legs okay?" Bones' voice was much gentler than Jim was used to. He hadn't even noticed he was still moving his legs.

But he couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything. Voices were echoed and broken up.

"No... eligible... sedatives... must... Jim... awake..."

"No attempt... own... ventilator.."

He didn't bother to process what that meant. No matter how much he tried, Jim couldn't lose consciousness.

Once again, his chin was lifted, and Jim didn't protest to his jaw being manoeuvred until his mouth opened involuntarily.

“Give... laryngoscope...”

Hands firmly pressed against the side of his face, Jim felt a cold metallic object move down his throat, his body staying perfectly still. He felt his stomach riot in fear, and he let out a scared moan.

"It's okay, Jim, I'm right here."

What the hell were they doing to him? He wanted to move, they were doing things to him and Jim couldn't stop it.

“Endo...trac...ueal... tube...”

The object tugged, and soon after another tube-like object was smoothly run down his throat.

Anxiety bubbled in his stomach; he was going to be sick.

"We're almost done Jim," Bones said, Jim wishing he could see him but there was only blackness.

A few more tugs, and Jim felt air go into his lungs, expanding and contracting like it should.

His eyelids slowly parted, and his vision gradually returned to him. There were still people gathered around him, looking intensely in thought surrounded by medical equipment.

As his oxygen-deprived brain started to work again, Jim realised what had just happened.

He weakly lifted a hand, tugging on McCoy's sleeve to get his attention.

Determined eyes moved from the equipment to Jim's face.

"You okay?"

Jim struggled to move his heavy arm, but pointed at his throat, hoping Bones would understand what he meant.

"Ah. You stopped breathing kid, so you're on a respirator. I'm not sure why, but you're not unconscious and I can't sedate you. We've tried and we can't find one you're not allergic to, plus you're immune to everything we've already tried."

Jim slowly nodded at the new information, beginning to notice how cold he was feeling. And tired.

Jim's head swayed from side to side, his vision being as clear as day.

"Take it easy Jim," Bones warned, but instantly Jim decided to try sit up,

"Easy, easy," Bones urged, a firm hand pressed him back down again.

"He's still confused," he heard Chapel say.

"Normally people aren't conscious when getting ventilated, nor are they still awake when it's over, damn it."

Jim's eyes rolled to the left, where he noticed there was a tube in the crook of his arm. His eyebrows furrowed in thought, then turned to look at Bones, who had saw him looking at it.

"That's an IV, Jim, gonna keep you hydrated because hell if you'll do it on your own,"

Jim let his arm go limp and stared at the ceiling.

He was so very dazed.

"Try to rest, kid, we're gonna find out what's compromising your respiratory system."

So, he nodded in reply, allowing heavy eyelids to close.

....

"I don't understand why he suddenly reacted like that. All his symptoms are purely mentally related."

"It could be the effects of the drug he was given by that Klingon." Chapel was thinking.

"Or perhaps the doings of the parasite,” she added, “He’s getting more ill as the days go on.”

"Where's that Klingon bastard? Still in the brig?"

"Affirmative" Spock spoke out.

"Bring me down there, I want to speak to him. Alone. No security."

Chapel's hand pulled on McCoy's shoulder,

"Doctor, I really don't recommend--"

"Did you misunderstand me? I said no security."

This was followed by many 'yes sirs' and confused looks from people.

Silently, McCoy marched himself down to the brig to speak to the one that started it all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter already! I was half way through this one after submitting the last one..  
> Next chapter has a lot of hurt/comfort coming, so beware. Muahaha.

McCoy slammed a fist onto the glass window.

“Tell me what the fuck you’ve done to him before I flood a sample of it into _your_ blood stream and watch _you_ suffer like he is!”   
He would never do it, but perhaps the ‘warrior’ could be persuaded, with him knowing what the drug does and all.

“I would rather die, than give up a precious Klingon masterpiece!” the Klingon boomed. “Your Captain will die soon!”

McCoy’s blood ran cold; so, this _was_ supposed to end fatally? That was just a guess….  
Gritting his teeth and approaching the glass window, he muttered under his breath, not caring if anyone else was watching.

“Tell me everything you know about that god damned chemical and I’ll set you off on a shuttle.”

The Klingon burst out in hearty laughter. “You expect me to believe your primitive lies?”

“They aren’t lies, damn it! The Captain is dying and fuck the god damn regulations if I can find a way to save him! Tell me what is does and I’ll give you access to a shuttle!” McCoy was having pushy thoughts, telling him this was a terrible idea.

But he didn’t care.

“You will do anything for your Captain!” The Klingon stepped closer to the window, both ‘men’ would have been nose-to-nose if it wasn’t for the glass in the way. “I will invade your Federation, take many other Klingon vessels over the border, and all because you wanted to save your Captain?”

McCoy folded his arms. “I’d give up my life on Starfleet in a flash if that meant saving Jim’s life.”

The Klingon mimicked the doctor’s expression, folding his arms also and looking in thought.   
“You will show me to this shuttle.”

….

Jim awoke with a start, a nightmare fuelled at the front of his mind, his hand automatically reaching for his neck. Something was intruding, stopping him breathing; shallow gasps were all he could handle.

Strangling. Strangled. He was being strangled.  It was like being at the deep end of a swimming pool while not being able to swim.

He swatted his hands around frantically, until someone had pinned them back.

"Hi Jim, I'm gonna take you off the respirator, okay?"

Jim hastily nodded,

_Getitoutgetitoutgetitout._

The second the thin object was pulled up his throat and out his mouth, Jim bolted upright to prepare to face his enemy. He had full strength now, he could feel it.

The enemy attacked from behind, trying to pull him downward, trying to make him weak.

" _Stop_!" he shrieked, attempting to smack the hands away, but they remained latched onto his shoulders, the heavy weight not budging.

He heard the enemy call for a sedative; they were trying to incapacitate him!

As two large figures loomed above him, one armed and dangerous, Jim tactically rolled to one side and kneed the nearest attacker in the leg. They dropped their weapon: thank god, but the other figure unexpectedly grabbed his arms and forced them above his head. Jim screamed and tried to get free.

A cold sting on his neck, and he knew the captors had won.

"Jim, you're in Starfleet Medical, you're okay," a male voice flooded his now ringing ears. Jim continued to heave out strained breaths, still plagued of his nightmare that had become a reality.

"Sedative isn't working, like we assumed," another voice.

 _Breathe_.

"Sats are at 89%"

"Shit, put him on oxygen,"

 _Breathe_.

A nurse appeared by his side; Jim slowly let his eyeballs drift over to meet her.

"Jim, I'm just going to put this oxygen mask on you, alright?"

Jim shook his head desperately,

"No."

But it was placed and held against his face anyway. He struggled, the grip of his captors proving to be too strong for the Captain, but gradually the movement slowed down, Jim began to breathe again.

He sluggishly glanced up at the blurry figures above him, all talking and staying close, but he couldn't define who any of them were.

His foggy mind started to clear, and it became known to him that he was not in fact being held captive in a torture chamber, but was laying on a bed in Starfleet Medical.

He blinked tiredly, releasing a shaky breath. The oxygen mask shifted it's position a bit, so that the hand firmly keeping it in place was supposedly more comfortable, but Jim didn't move.

It took seconds for his eyes to flutter shut, sending him off to darkness again.

...

The second time he woke, Jim only had one thing on his mind:

_My god damned throat feels like sandpaper._

He opened his eyes, harsh lights threatening to give him a headache, the room blurring as his eyes tried to focus, but he persisted,

"Water," came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Jim, how are you feeling, dear?" He recognised the voice as Chapel. Maybe she would understand his undying unquenchable thirst for water.

"Water!" he hissed through clench teeth.

God, his throat was burning!

"No symptoms so far then," he heard her say.

No symptoms for what?

His vision was clearer now, he managed to make out where she was. He reached out a floppy hand and hit her as hard as his weak muscles would allow,

"Water-r-r!" he cried out, the urge to rip out his throat was high.

"Yes Jim, just a minute."

Jim was almost about to start crying in pain,

"I need water!" he tried not scream in case of irritating it.

"I want--" a plastic cup was shoved into his hand.

"There's your water, relax," Chapel chuckled, turning and walking away.

Jim practically threw the cup over his mouth.

It was so cold. Thank god. The water eased the burning in his throat.

After throwing the cup on the floor because all the tables were not to be seen, Jim saw McCoy come sauntering into the room, looking not so happy.

That is, less happy than he usually is, which is not happy.

"Jim!" he called from across the room, approaching him hastily, "How you feelin’?" A device was now floating in front of his face. Jim grunted and swiped the machine away, granting a scowl from the doctor.

"My throat hurts!" Jim whined, the burning returning with a vengeance.

"Yeah? Well that ventilator must have irritated the lining of your throat. Give it a few more hours."

Jim nodded, rubbing his neck in an attempt to sooth it, which did no favours.

"Bones, you look so glum, what'd you do?"

Bones held back a smirk and replaced it with a frown, "Nothing you should concern yourself with, Jim, but I do have to speak with you."

Jim sighed; when Bones wanted to speak with him, that meant something was terribly wrong.

"What's up?"

Bones took another reading from his irritatingly loud and too-close-for-comfort device, with a look of satisfaction on his face.

"Looks like the new treatment is working well," then he paused, "Well not treatment, that's definitely needing to operate, but it's holding back your symptoms well."

Jim furrowed his eyebrows in thought, "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"We've put you on a drug you're supposedly allergic to."

Jim blinked in confusion.

"Why?"

That earned an eye roll from Bones, but it was a good enough question.

"That damn parasite has made you immune to every sedative known to the damn galaxy that you're not allergic to, all that's left are, well.. ones you're allergic to," he explained carefully, "But I got a comm from the guys down here while I was up on the Enterprise, saying you'd started thrashing n' screaming again, so I thought we'd bite the bullet and try you on a mild sedative, see how that goes, and I don't see any harm so far."

Jim bopped his head in acknowledgement. Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Frank or Kodos today.

Then the thought of his throat came back.

"Bones my throat huuurts," he whined, tightening his hand over his neck.

"I know, would you reject a pain killer? Well, you have no choice," and the hypospray-weapon was locked and loaded, a hesitant hand floating around his neck, then another hand pulled up his gown, the hypo skillfully driven into Jim's thigh.

He flinched and rubbed his sides.

"Sorry, but it was either that or your neck, and I don't think you would've approved of your neck."

Jim scowled and pulled down his gown.

"Wouldn't've approved either way.." he mumbled.

If Bones had heard, he chose not to reply.

Jim shifted in the biobed,

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I walk around?"

Bones looked at him flabbergasted, but relaxed, "If you stay as stable as you are now, then perhaps later."

Jim grinned and stretched his body in relief, "Thanks Bones,"

"S'alright. Mustn't feel nice being locked up in here for over three weeks."

Jim nodded,

Three weeks? It's been that long?

"What are the crew doing?"

Bones dragged a stool next to Jim's bed, looking happier than he was earlier.

"All of them are on shore leave," he replied, "Except Spock, the hobgoblin decided that working was his favourite pass time," his eyes rolled, and Jim smirked.

He coughed, then grimaced.

_Fuck, my throat is burning again._

"Something wrong?" McCoy had noticed his discomfort, flying back into doctor-mode again.

"My throat hurts so bad, Bones," Jim muttered, his hand clenched around his neck, his eyes squeezed shut.

_Fuck._

"That bad huh?"

With a sigh, McCoy rolled the stool to the side, grabbing some stuff that Jim couldn't make out from a far away table, then came back.

Jim squeezed his neck harder,

God, I haven't been in so much pain for a while.

Jim's thoughts were interrupted when strange rubbery sounds invaded his ears.

He opened his eyes, to find Bones was fitting latex gloves on. They were so loud!

Jim scowled.

"Can you be any more obnoxious with those?"

"Shut up," Bones barked, "I'm gonna raise the bed."

Before Jim could protest without knowing why, the bed was raised in a more upright position.

"Awesome, there's a world outside the ceiling," Jim remarked.

"Don't get used to it," Bones snarled jokingly, wheeling closer to the younger man.

Another cough.

"Fuck!" Jim groaned, unable to stop tears pricking his eyes. "Bones, my throat, I can't--"

"I know, stay still," Bones, now considerably close to Jim, reached out with both hands to feel the sides of Jim's neck. Then moved up to the front of Jim's ear, then behind, running back down to his collar bone.

Jim scowled, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Stay still," Bones mumbled, who seemed to share Jim's scowl, run fingers under Jim's ear, pressing and rubbing in a circular motion. There was a quiet sigh.

"What..?"

"Jim, when did this burning start?"

Jim paused in thought, "When I woke up just now."

Bones did the whole check again.

"Uh huh," he mumbled, "Chapel?"

The nurse came over quickly, "Doctor?"

"He has some swelling in the lymph nodes, supraclavicular and cervical," he wheeled aside so that Chapel could tell for herself.

Jim could hear the heart rate monitor accurately speeding up.

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" he yelled, squeezing his eyes shut at the pain of shouting.

"Allergic reaction to the Alpraxamine," McCoy was telling Chapel.

Jim watched Bones grab a packet from the nearby tray, something that he had taken from the table earlier, unwrapped a stick looking thing.

"What are you--"

"Open." McCoy demanded, waving the stick in front of him. Jim swallowed, wincing at the pain, but obliged cautiously.

Bones pressed Jim's tongue down with what he realised was a tongue depressor, and Jim started fidgeting.

"Definite swelling, especially at the furthest regions," Bones was stating, Chapel nodding in acknowledgement. "Dammit, keep still!"

"Ag-uugg-aghu"

"How long until you think it starts affecting his respiratory system?" Chapel asked.

"Geh-ou-oai-ouh"

"I'll get out your mouth in a minute Jim," McCoy mumbled, "It's running it's course slowly, there's only been swelling in his throat so far, which has taken about an hour to get this bad, which isn't too bad at all," McCoy stated, "If it gets worse it'll close up his airway."

"Start him on anti-inflammatory and check again in half an hour?" Chapel suggested.

"Yeah, can you get the medication, uhh.. liquid form,"

"Yes doctor," and Chapel leant a smile to Jim, and walked away. Bones retracted the decompressor from Jim's mouth and whipped the gloves off.

"Thanks for constantly whining about your neck Jim, or we never would have caught it." McCoy retorted, the bed being moved down flat again.

"What's wrong with me?" Jim sounded pathetic.

"The burning in your throat is because of swelling caused by a reaction to the Alpraxamine."

"The drug you tried me on?"

"Mmhm."

Jim glanced down at the floor with sad eyes.

"Does this mean I can't walk around?"

Bones looked at Jim's clear upset in his face sympathetically, "As long as your throat doesn't close up, I'll still let you."

The glint instantly returned to his blue eyes.

"Awesome, thanks Bones," Jim shuffled under the blankets in satisfaction. McCoy gave a pat to Jim's shoulder and stood up, the doctor's face had dropped again.

"I have to talk to personnel about something, you'll press that button if things change?" Bones gestured to the big red button on the wall.

"Oh, and let him walk if he wants to, but no further than this room and the corridor," he gave a glance to Jim for his approval.

Jim nodded gleefully, and watched as McCoy marched out the room.

_What was he so upset about?_

....

McCoy sauntered into the mess hall, sitting down furthest away from the other human beings with a thump.

He miserably stared at the table for ten minutes straight before a loud accent penetrated his ears.

"Lad, ye be lookin' like I do when ah've ran out o' me' Scotch!"

McCoy dragged his hands away from his face to glance at the Scotsman.

"Uh huh," he mumbled, "Don't suppose you have any on you now, do ya?"

A bottle slammed onto the table answered that question for him.

"Course I 'ave, who do ye think I am?"

McCoy reached for the Scotch and stared at it in hopes it would open magically.

"God help us all," he muttered, pulling the cap off and downing half the bottle.

"Aren't'cha on duty soon?"

McCoy shook his head, pushing the Scotch away and slamming his head on the table.

"What's wrong with ye'?"

"Ah.." McCoy wanted nothing more than to sleep. Right here. Right now. "I spoke to the Klingon bastard in the brig a few hours ago."

"Aye, I was there, I dunnae know how but ye' managed to convince me to--"

"Yeah, I know."

"And that's bothering ye'?"

McCoy took in a deep breath. "Ee-yep."

"What'd he say?"

"Uhh.." McCoy looked around cautiously, "That basically our Captain is fucked."

Scotty folded his arms, "Ach, the rest of the crew know this?"

McCoy again shook his head.

"But uh... that's not the whole story," he admit quietly, watching as Scotty finally took a seat next to him, "I informed Starfleet Command of the situation, told him of Jim's diagnosis, his reactions, I told them the idiot is refusing consent for surgery, and uh.." he paused to think of how he was going to say this, "They determined that he hasn't the capacity to consent," he let out a breath, "Left me to do the procedure at my own discretion, whether he wants it or not."

Scotty solemnly nodded, "And you' gonna do it?"

"Uhh.." McCoy again stopped to think, "I've informed my medical personnel and Starfleet Medical that we're doing it early mornin' next Monday."

"Ach..." Scotty looked like a kicked puppy, "He's not gonna be too happy about that," he looked down at the stripes on his sleeve, running a hand over them in thought, "Have you told him?"

McCoy slowly shook his head. "No. But after what the Klingon bastard told me, Jim's life is in serious danger and he could die by the end of next week."

At that moment, McCoy's communicator chirped. He held up a finger to say _hold on_.

"McCoy here,"

"Doctor, you better come down here," was the only ominous thing said.

McCoy's heart dropped to his feet.

_Shit._

"Is it Jim?"

Silence.

"Yeah, come quick."

McCoy sat in silence for a few seconds, assuming the worst.

"I'll be right there, McCoy out."

Scotty stood to his feet in attention, "I'll let ye' go," he declared, offering a reassuring nod, grabbing the Scotch and taking a slow walk out the room.

For one of the first times in his life, McCoy felt sick to his stomach.

....

He barged into Jim's room, half expecting the monitors to be turned off and people mourning over a body.

But the bed was empty. He blinked in confusion and approached the nearest nurse, who was fixated with the PADD.

"Where is he?"

The nurse looked up and instantly straightened, "He's been wandering for a few minutes, but hallucinations started again, he's taken off out the room armed with a phaser,"

"You made it sound like he died, damn it!"

The nurse looked around the room for backup and swallowed.

"Sir.. he was talking about creating the 'end to our suffering'," she explained.

"Our?"

"He was pretty upset, crying about how Kodos was trying to capture him, begged us to hide him,"

McCoy clenched his fists.

_Why was I never told of this?_

"That's when he grabbed his phaser and left."

This could not turn out good.

At all.

Jim was under the impression that he was the reason Kodos was here, and wants to end it.

God damn it.

....

McCoy peered into Jim's quarters on the Enterprise. The room was cold, being unused for weeks. Taken by the slight nostalgia of better days, he stepped in and brushed off some built-up dust that was collecting on tables and sideboards.

He missed the days when Jim would try to get on his nerves in sickbay or away missions, drinking with his closest friend and not having to constantly comfort the shell of a man from fear that was created 20 years ago.

Was it even possible for Jim to go back the way he was? What if some damage is permanent? What if he has to deal with this intense fear for the rest of his life?

Sighing and opening his comm, McCoy called for Spock.

"McCoy to bridge, is Spock there?"

Silence.

"Spock here."

He breathed a sigh of relief. _Someone_ he knew was still around.

"Spock, uh, are you able to leave the bridge or are you stuck there?" he leaned against the wall waiting for the reply.

"I do not appear to be chemically bonded to the bridge grounds, doctor."

McCoy held back the urge to groan and rolled his eyes.

"I mean, are you able to _leave_?"

"Affirmative. If for a sufficient reason."

Well, this was sure to be sufficient enough. Or he'd hunt down the bastard and quarantine him for six weeks.

"Can you keep this line private?"

Didn't want the entire bridge crew knowing their Captain had gone walk-abouts claiming the whole ship is out to murder him.

"Affirmative."

 _Good_.

"Jim-- uh, the Captain's gone missing. He's armed with a phaser and potentially delirious, I need your help to find him."

Some more silence, probably trying to process it. I mean, when does McCoy ever admit to asking for Spock’s help?

"Where shall I meet with you?"

"Perform a ship wide scan and if he's not on board, meet me down in Jim's room in Starfleet Medical."

"Is it not possible to perform a scan of the facility?"

"There's a million souls here, Spock."

"I will perform my duties, Spock out,"

McCoy shoved the communicator away and slumped against the wall.

_God damn it Jim, why you gotta be so difficult?_

....

Jim hightailed it through the many white corridors of Starfleet. Several black-shirted staff members jumped as he ran past them, darting from room to room in an attempt to find Kodos.

Armed with a phaser, he'd get rid of him once and for all. No more deaths, no more destruction.

"Hey, where are you going?" A young nurse with tied-back hair grabbed his arm.

This could be a good opportunity for information.

"Have you seen a tall man? Bit of a moustache, greying hair, usually wears cloaks?"

The nurse looked blankly at him, and smiled, "No, but I can see that you're a patient here," she gestured to his gown, "What's your name?"

Jim shook his head in exasperation, "No... no, I need to find Kodos, before he executes everyone!"

"I'm sure you do, what room is yours?" The grip on Jim's arm tightened, his gut filled with fear. Was she working for him?

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Her expression looked mortified, "No! No of course not, I--"

But Jim yanked his arm away and continued racing off to each and every corridor.

...

"Any sign of him?" McCoy yelled into his communicator, increasingly panicked as the hours went by.

"Negative. I have yet to ascertain--"

" _FIND HIM, DAMMIT_!" McCoy half screeched into the communicator. Then let out a shaky exhale when Spock didn't reply. "Sorry, I'm just... worried, what if he got himself into trouble?"

The sound of rustling was heard on the other side,

"It is quite alright. You are in a heightened state of panic, which is an understandable response to the current situation."

McCoy shut his eyes and took a second to breathe.

"Tell me if you find something," he muttered quietly, "McCoy out."

Jim could be lying seriously injured and dying for all he knew.

...

Jim had run from corridor to corridor, room to room, lift after lift and even accidently entered what he assumed was an operating theater once or twice-- Kodos was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, he dropped to his knees against an empty room's walls; he had no idea where he was.

And where the hell was Kodos? He could be killing innocent people because of him!

All because of _him_!

Because Kodos was trying to find Jim-- to finally execute him after twenty years of searching.

That's when it hit him.

If he's killing people because of me, does that mean if I'm dead, he'll die too?

He stared at the cold marble floor, feeling a knot form in his throat, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Jim looked around to find the phaser, reached it and pulled it towards him with one finger. He numbly stared at it, willing for it to move on its own. It didn't.

With trembling fingers, Jim turned the phaser towards him, letting out a small whimper at the realisation of what he was doing.

The whimpering turned into sobs, his hand twitching on top of the weapon went limp, his body collapsing forwards onto the floor.

The cold floor burned his fevered cheeks, feeling tremors run up his arms.

With his head turned to the side, and too breathless from sobbing to move, Jim stared at the phaser, the weapon willing him, pushing him and sending pulsating _itches_ to his head screaming _pick me up_!

Losing himself in tears, Jim's vision became a mess of white and silver splotches.

 _Twenty-five thousand people_ , an echo in his mind taunted him, " _Twenty-five thousand innocent people, men, women, children, screaming and begging before Kodos the executioner."_

He snivelled, feeling another hot tear roll down his cheeks and puddle onto the ground under his chin.

Slowly, while fearfully sobbing, Jim slapped a trembling, weak hand over the phaser. His fingers tensed up around it, the marble floor making it hard to catch a grip on it, as it spun around on contact.

With one loud and strained cry, Jim forced the trigger down and screamed as the phaser's beam ripped into his stomach, his eyes glazing over with red mist as he quickly lost the ability to breathe.

White-hot searing pain in his abdomen was the last thing he remembers.

...

McCoy had his head in his hands. Jim was nowhere to be found, and there were thousands of rooms in this medical centre. Finding him was a lost cause. The only chance they'd have of finding him would be if he got so badly injured he couldn't move.

Rubbing his forehead against his wrist, McCoy ducked his head under his arms.

“Maybe he’ll just miraculously turn up,” he muttered to Spock, who was analysing CCTV footage in the corner.

And then silence.............

A hoarse scream followed by a loud high pitched shrill flooded his ears.

McCoy's head shot up, turning to Spock, who had noticed the same thing, no doubt with his extra sensitive ears.

"What the hell was that?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: This chapter is pretty much completely about medical procedures. I wasn't sure about writing this but I wanted to investigate how the relationship and Jim's fear is dealt with when he's in the hands of someone else, instead of just skipping the whole thing. So tons of angst.**

**After this chapter it'll mostly be recovery, I plan to do that too. Enjoy :)**

 

Jim awoke to the sound of low humming, his ear pressed against the floor. Rhythmic beeping of different variations distracted him from the tender throbbing pain in his abdomen.

He couldn't move, every twitch sending shooting pains to his stomach. So, he lay frozen sprawled across the ground, wondering why no one had found him yet. Or how he got here.

Jim lifted his head slightly, grunting and dropping it to the floor as his vision was lost in a haze.

_Where am I?_

He tried to look down at the source of his agony, but his shirt and arms got in the way. Slowly, Jim bit his lip and forced himself to turn onto his back to check where the pain was coming from.

Thick layers of blood dripped onto the floor, revealing red stains and newly formed puddles from where he lay.

_Was I attacked?_

Jim gently reached for his stomach to ease the pain, but the slightest touch sent Jim screaming in agony; his body went rigid and tense, he panted and tried to catch his breath.

He stared up at the ceiling, a hot tear running down his cheek.

_Help._

.........

"We have checked all rooms on this floor, doctor, the Captain is not here."

McCoy shook his head, "No, the flash of light came from here," he sighed and gritted his teeth, storming over to a wall panel.

"This is McCoy, is there any sign of Jim--uh, James Kirk?"

"Sorry doc, we've got nothing to do with him."

Grunting, he turned off the panel and glared at Spock, waiting for some miraculous plan to come spewing out his logical mouth.

"Perhaps we should, in your vernacular, 'split up', in order to cover more distance and thus increase the chances of finding the Captain."

_There it is._

"Good idea, take the lower levels from here and I'll take the upper," and without a second glance went storming off to the nearest turbo lift.

Spock, smartly, took the turbo lift on the other side of the room.

.......

Jim's head rolled from side to side as he tried to find something--anything, he could use to get help. Noticing his hands were clammy, Jim wiped them on his shirt, but the sweat just seemed to stick. In fact, all his skin was clammy.

Eventually, after half an hour had gone, Jim started trembling uncontrollably, barely managing to stay conscious.

_Maybe I should just let go and be done with it._

So, giving in to defeat, Jim took a final breath…

...Before hands were all over him, a voice calling his name.

"Captain,"

Jim groaned in response. That was translatable in all languages, for whoever it was.

"Jim."

He recognised that voice. He blinked heavy eyes open, but everything was a blur. The figure in front of him was wearing blue, which likely meant he was part of the Enterprise.

Jim mumbled something incoherent and let himself go limp. He was found now, he could stop fighting.

Fingers suddenly pressed against his neck, then were retracted with a quiet sigh. Some rustling, and then the voice appeared again, except this time he couldn't tell what it was saying. It was just monotone gibberish. His mind was too far gone to process it.

He groaned to let the visitor know he was still aware, with much effort.

A hand moved under his head, and then Jim was hauled onto a levelled position. It stretched his stomach, and his mind was begging for him to scream in pain, but he just about managed a whine.

After that, Jim allowed darkness to engulf him, the low toned gibberish fading away into the distance.

The next time Jim woke up, it was because firm hands were all over his body, switching from his head to his knees to his stomach. He released a groan and breathed a quiet sigh.

All of a sudden, a cold painful sting in his neck made him rocket upright in shock, the world fading back into view.,

"Hey, hey, it's alright," a voice reassured him, an arm wrapped around Jim's chest to keep him still. "Been looking everywhere for you, blonde moron."

_I recognise that voice..._

"B--Bo--Bo--"

"It's alright,” he cooed, “Spock, can you head back down and get some help? I'll stay here with him," McCoy ordered, taking out a tricorder and hovering it over Jim.

The Vulcan quickly gave a curt nod and left.

McCoy glanced over Jim's shaking body.

"Where does it hurt kid?"

Jim looked mystified but managed to mumble 'abd'men’.

"Alright, I'm just gonna look, okay?" he offered, peeling back the red soaked shirt. Dry blood ripped away from the clothing and skin, Jim hissed.

"Shit, kid," McCoy glared horrified at the offending injury, "Do you remember what happened?"

Jim was silent, staring at McCoy with pleading eyes.

"Alright... I'll give you a pain killer," and with that, loaded a hypo and jabbed it in Jim's neck.  He didn't even flinch, just continued to lay there staring fixated at the ceiling, fingers clinging tightly to McCoy's blue shirt.

"Jim," McCoy tried again, "Do you remember what happened?"

He waited for an answer, but Jim just started breathing heavier, lips trembling.

"I don't remember anything," he squeaked, "I don't know why I'm here or why there's a huge fucking hole in my stomach!"

McCoy leaned in and grabbed his arms, "Hey, none of that, come on," he soothed, rubbing circles into his back. But Jim just fell into McCoy's embrace and burst into tears.

"Ah lord, okay, it's okay Jim," he wrapped arms around him, wishing help would arrive. "You're gonna be alright,"

"I-w-want this t-to s-stop,"

"I know, I'm gonna fix it, I promise,"

Jim breathed a shaky laugh, "Y-you... always... s..ay...that.." his eyes fluttered shut, and McCoy jumped into doctor-mode,

"Jim? Come on Jim, don't fall asleep yet," he shook him gently, earning a groan from the younger man.

"M'tired," Jim mumbled, dragging eyelids open again. Then shut them and started sobbing, "It's still hurting!"

"Oh for..." he grabbed the hypo and loaded a higher dosage of the pain reliever, pressing it into Jim's neck again.

Jim sniffed, and started trembling,

"What's ha-happening to m-me?"

McCoy pulled him in closer, "You're very sick, kid, but I'm gonna fix it when help comes, okay?"

Jim's breathing was getting faster, which worried McCoy,

"It's alright, calm down now, Jim." he pressed two fingers against his neck and grimaced, too fast.

"I'm f-fuck-k-ing sc-sc-sc-ared,"

"It's gonna be alright darlin', I'll get you patched up in no time," he cradled the gasping man in his arms, silently boring his eyes at the room door, waiting for company to arrive.

"I-I'm--I'm not--not m-myself... anym-more..."

"Shhh...it's okay," McCoy was rocking him back and forth, like he does with Joanna when she's scared. The thought of how far gone Jim is frightened McCoy. He shifted to get into a better position, but froze to stop himself when he realised Jim's body was limp, and he was holding up all his body weight.

Jim continued gasping and sobbing into McCoy's shirt, he was suddenly grateful that he studied psychology in the Academy.

Suddenly, the door threw open again, several doctors came flooding in, with Spock following from behind.

Jim let out another loud gasp and practically knocked into the older man, grabbing his shirt and clinging on for dear life.

"Hold on," McCoy warned the incoming staff, who probably didn't give a rats ass about Jim's mental state.

"Jim, the doctors I told you about are here, they're gonna help you, alright?"

Jim shook his head desperately,

"No!" he breathed, clinging on harder, "I don't--I can't--"

"Come on man, we can’t help you if you've attached yourself to my shoulders," Bones gave a genuine smile, "Let go and let us help you."

But Jim's rock-hard grip proved he was adamant to not let anyone else touch him.

"Doctor," a nurse called from in front of him, "His BP has skyrocketed. If we don't get to him soon, he's gonna bleed out in minutes."

McCoy took a quick glance to Jim's face by leaning away for a second, but he simply pulled him back and started crying again.

"Jesus christ..." he mumbled, reaching his head over Jim's shoulder to see the medical staff. One nurse caught his eye, and McCoy used the opportunity to slowly reach around Jim's waist and point to his medkit in front of him, gesturing for her to look inside.

She opened it, looked back up to McCoy in confusion at the twenty or so vials in there.

Jim groaned, and coughed, then immediately started whimpering.

"Bon-Bo-Bones..."

McCoy was becoming more aware of his wheezing.

"I'm still here, kid," he mumbled into his ear, returning attention to the nurse. She looked back up to him, and McCoy raised three fingers to let her know it was the third vial he was after, and she nodded.

He watched carefully, the nurse quietly loading the hypo and then looking back up to him for instructions.

Cautiously, McCoy reached the arm further, laying out his hand in a gesture to say _give it to me._

So, slowly she did, and very carefully, McCoy turned the hypo around, and gently pressed it into the back of Jim's neck.

He flinched, then tensed up so hard that McCoy was worried he was about to burst into a seizure.

"It's okay, you're doing fine," McCoy muttered reassurances to him, Jim could only whimper, knowing what was happening, but seconds later he felt Jim collapse into him, and managed to catch him in time.

"Sorry about that," he sighed, "He's terrified of this place for some reason."

"It's alright," the nurse had had gave him the hypo said, "What happened?"

"He doesn't remember, but an hour ago mister Spock and I heard a loud shrill followed by a scream, I'd say he shot himself with the phaser." McCoy gently lay Jim on his back, taking in the grimaces the doctors were showing on their faces.

"We take him into surgery. Now. We're doing two immediately after one another. Get your off-duty surgeons in the OR because it's gonna be a long night."

....

"Two surgeries? He was hit in more than one place?" chief surgeon of Medical asked, while everyone was storming down the corridors with Jim on a hoverbed.

"No, were you not informed of the uh... surgery taking place on Monday?"

"Tomorrow? Yeah, I heard about that, we doing it now?"

McCoy nodded eyes fixed on the PADD readings, "Don't think he can cope with two surgeries a day apart from each other, we'll do them all now."

They entered the OR, quickly hauling the unconscious Jim onto a table.

"Which first?"

"His abdomen, you idiot." But as soon as Jim was comfy and flooded with drugs, he spoke up to everyone,

"Now listen, we're gonna be in here for a good eight or nine hours non-stop. He has a hit around his abdominal cavity, so uh... laparotomy first, and I can keep him asleep for that-- that's fine. But with a craniotomy, that's gonna take a hell of a long time, and to monitor that there's no damage neurologically, he'll have to be conscious when we're in. And I don't think it's going to be easy," he stopped for a breath, going over his next lines, "He's likely to delve into one of the biggest panic attacks your sad asses have ever seen, while we're working on him." He said the next words seriously, "If you can't cope with that, then I'm warning you now to leave and find a replacement."

Not one person batted an eye, all looks of determination on their faces.

"Good," he exhaled, checking Jim's vitals one more time, "Then let's get this over with."

....

"Thirty cc's of Nisoxamine," McCoy didn't take his eyes away from the patient, glaring at a contrast of red and black. He stepped back to look at his handiwork, inwardly beginning a timer to see how long it takes for Kirk to fuck it up again.

"Stats are holding steady," one of his assistants stated.

"Good, can anyone finish up while I get Chapel for the next phase?"

Immediately someone stepped in to take over from him.

_One down, one excruciating long one left to go._

...

"He's not gonna respond to the others, 'cos he doesn’t know them. I can't work and talk to him at the same time, so you'll have to."

Chapel smiled, "Didn't need an explanation, I would have done it anyway."

McCoy folded his arms and made his way back to the OR, "At least someone on this flying shitstate of a ship is competent," he retorted, "Really, Gardman asked me which procedure to do first. The wound that would kill him in the next few minutes or the parasite he could live with for weeks." he rolled his eyes, "What a dilemma, huh."

"Maybe he doesn't know that the parasite isn't life threatening right now," Chapel chuckled, pushing the doors open.

"Right, I'll say this one more time," McCoy wanted to warn everyone about what they were about to get into, "If you can't deal with a frantic Jim Kirk for eight to nine hours straight then get out now."

Nobody wants to see Jim hyper-panicked for so long, but it was whether they could swallow the distress and get on with it.

"Is his head secure?"

Everyone around the room gave each other confused looks.

"Oh, for the love of--"

"I'll do it, doctor," Chapel muttered, walking to Jim's temporarily sleeping form.

"Clamp it forty degrees to the left," he gave glares to each and every incompetent moronic excuse of a doctor in the room: aka everyone except him and Chapel.

Once Jim's head was in place, Chapel wheeled up a stool in front of Jim, "I think you should be the first face he see's," Chapel admitted, moving back a bit.

McCoy looked between her and Jim, "Uh, okay," and knelt down in front of him. A nurse handed him a hypo, and he checked-- in case it was complete with half the list of Jim's allergies, then pressed it into his neck.

For a while there was nothing, but McCoy's eyes met the monitors as the vitals started to shoot up.

Jim's hands clenched the sheets, McCoy pulled down his mask before Jim opened his eyes.

"Mmmghh..." Jim groaned painfully.

"Hey darlin'" McCoy watched the vitals, which was steadily picking up.

"B'ns?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I fixed your stomach, now I'm gonna fix your head."

Jim's eyes slowly blinked open, immediately fear set into them as recognition of his surroundings settled in. His legs kicked, to which he grimaced squeezed his eyes shut.

"Don’t...wanna..be here.." Jim breathed. As McCoy was about to respond, his eyes widened and he kicked around frantically.

"I can't--I can't m-move my he-head!"

McCoy pursed his lips together and ran a comforting hand through Jim's forehead. "Like I said kid, I'm about to start fixing your head, so I need you to be really still."

_This was gonna be difficult._

Jim's arm grabbed McCoy's, making him realise how clammy and shaky his hands were.

"I don't..want it.."

"I know you don't darlin' but think of it this way-- deal with this procedure for a few hours and you'll never have to hear Frank or Kodos ever again,"

Jim's eyes lit up at the thought, making McCoy smile.

"Never again? He'll be gone forever?"

"Yeah kid, he'll disappear for good."

Jim's face brightened, but dropped again, "I'm scared..."

"I know, I know," he squeezed Jim's hand, "Now listen, Christine is here with me, see?" he moved aside so Jim could see her, giving a weak smile.

"She's gonna help me fix you. All we want you to do is talk to us and wiggle your toes every now and then. That okay?"

Jim's hand tightened around McCoy's but he offered a whispered "Okay..."

McCoy smiled, "Atta boy," and stood up to go behind his head.

Luckily, scientific advancements meant that once loud surgical instruments were now only a low hum. It was less likely to terrify the crap out of patients.

He picked a hypo, loaded a Fryigozyl and pressed it into his neck.

"That's just gonna help you stayed relaxed," he said, not telling him it was mostly a medicine to block the incoming pain.

"Doctor?" Christine asked for his attention.

"Hmm?"

"I was thinking we could give him some Edrogel oxide to get his mind completely off this?"

McCoy considered this for a moment, acquiring a laser scalpel, "I want him to stay alert so he's cooperative, but if his panicking gets in the way of that then yeah, we'll do it your way," and started the cut to his head.

Jim stayed silent and perfectly still.

 _For now_ , McCoy thought.

.......

After 20 minutes, Jim still hadn't spoke, or even struggled much to McCoy's surprise.

_He's gonna have to speak soon._

"Approaching the dura, retractors," McCoy ordered, glancing down to Jim's glazed over eyes, "You okay kid?"

Jim looked deep in thought, "Everything...numb..." he mumbled.

"Yeah, that's the medicine, Jim," he sighed and craned his neck, "Okay I'm in, Jim can you wiggle your toes?"

Jim obliged.

"Good, now Chapel has something for you to read, okay?"

Jim let out a quiet groan of acknowledgement.

"Okay, the bastard's buried himself deep in here, so let's get these out the way and we should have access to remove it."

Jim's eyes drifted shut, Chapel rubbed fingers up and down his arm. "Stay awake, Jim."

That earned another groan.

"Is he alright?" McCoy glanced up at the monitors, "BP's dropping, is there a bleed?"

Jim mumbled something incoherent and lazily slapped a hand on Chapel's arm.

"M'sorry.." Jim mumbled, completely out of it.

"Sorry about what Jim?" Chapel gave him a reassuring rub on the shoulder.

"Mmmm'ssrry"

"Doctor?"

"There's a bleed, hold on,"

The alarms started blaring for the emergency at hand, McCoy running a protoplaser over Jim's head. He looked up at the monitors and sighed in relief when stats started picking up.

"Hmmm..." Jim mumbled tiredly.

....

Four hours later and Jim's hands were trembling like no tomorrow. Chapel had her own hands over them, trying to keep him calm.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and moaned.

"Sorry Jim," McCoy muttered, "The bastard is trying to set off impulses cos' I've nearly got my hands on it."

Jim's lips slightly parted with the desperate panting seeping through.

Chapel squeezed his arm, "It's alright Jim."

But the younger man merely whimpered, and to McCoy dismay, started kicking.

The jolt to the skull made McCoy whip his instruments back. He scowled, Jim continued kicking and heaving.

"Jim. **_No_**." he ordered, pulling down his mask and walking to face him.

Jim moaned and started thrashing out of control,

"W-what... W-wha.."

"Calm down Jim, it's alright bud," he looked to Chapel as if saying _little help here._

"Wha-if d-die?"

"You're not dying Jim, a couple more hours and I'll be done."

"Can w-we s-st-st-stop?"

McCoy bit his lip and shook his head. "I can't darlin', you know I can't," he walked back to the head of the table and picked up his instruments again, only to have Jim bucking and struggling beneath him.

"Damn it, Jim!" he shouted, dropping everything on a tray again, and Jim began sobbing in reaction.

"Stop..." Jim muttered, but the low hum meant he wasn't going to. "Stop!"

But McCoy was fiercely determined to finish this.

Jim whacked his arms around and flailed in desperation, "You're g-gonna hu-hurt me!" he cried out, Chapel grabbed his hands and held them to his chest.

"Breathe, Jim, you're having a panic attack," she soothed, "That little creature doesn't like McCoy very much," she smiled. But Jim remained gasping and trembling constantly.

Finally, McCoy dropped his instruments once again, reaching over to get some supplies.

Jim could hear him, and desperately rolled his eyes around to find him.

When McCoy came back, he sat beside Jim and pressed a mask to his face immediately. His eyes shot over to Chapel in a desperate plea for help.

"It's okay Jim, just breathe this in," McCoy soothed, watching the vitals slowly start to drop to better levels. "Edrogel?" Chapel asked him. Jim coughed and mumbled something.

"Yeah, hold it here so I can get back to work."

Chapel took over from holding the mask.

The only thing they could get him to do now with his muddled confused mind was to wiggle his toes or squeeze Chapel's hand, but it was enough, and McCoy was almost done.

...

Jim lay half-lucid, staring at the weirdly angled ceiling from the position his head was in. He wanted to fall asleep, but his body wouldn’t let him do so. Everything felt dreamy and unreal; he was content to just lay there and do nothing.   
Eventually, he managed to feel a hand rub up and down his arm, trying to get his attention.

“Jim?” he heard Chapel say. She sounded so far away.

“Hmmmm..” Jim hummed in response, wishing he could move his head to face her, but she had gone to help McCoy.

“We’re going to start to wean you off the Edrogel now to get you talk to us before we finish, okay?”

Jim let out another hum and shut his eyes. This time, no-one yelled at him for resting tired eyelids.  
Slowly, he started to feel more lucid, the sounds of his environment growing louder and clearer. He felt the pang of fear return to his stomach instantly, and he groaned loudly.

“It’s alright Jim, just another half an hour or so and we’ll all be done,” Chapel’s voice from behind him said. Jim looked down at his fingers, noticing they were limp over his leg. He wiggled them, glad that McCoy hadn’t managed to paralyse him yet. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes again.

“Bones?”

It seemed like forever to Jim but the reply was instant.

“Yeah Jim?”

“Mm’thought you said… I had...choice...” he could practically hear the strained sigh from behind him, imagined that he was shaking his head.

“I’m sorry bud, I had no idea it would get this bad,” he heard him say, “I, uh, thought that you wouldn’t get anymore sick that you already were.”

Jim huffed. “You broke protocol.”

“I got permission.”

Jim began to feel anger taking over the fear in his chest, “You got permission from Starfleet to smash open my skull without my consent?” he spat.

There was a low chuckle from behind him.  
“Careful there Jim, remember that I’m still inside that skull of yours.”

Jim sighed and ran his hands over his face, trying to quell the anxiety swelling around in his stomach.  
Speaking of stomach…  
“Did you fix my stomach?”

“Yeah, I’ve sealed you up, but you’re gonna need some regenerator sessions if you don’t want a bad scar.”

Jim breathed into his hands and shut his eyes, noticing his fingers were shaking.   
Then just like a tsunami, a wave of blackness washed over him, his hearing resorting to a shrill screech, his vision was nothingness.   
And suddenly, he was floating.

A sting to his neck and everything his senses offered overwhelmed him at once, his vision returning with a vengeance, the sound of wild beeping was slowing down.  
“You okay?”

Jim grunted, “Wha’appen?”

“Parasite fought against me as I tweezered it, sent tons of impulses through your nervous system. How’s your vision? Your hearing? Are you struggling to breathe? Do you feel dizzy? Can you— “

“I’m fine, Bones,” Jim sighed, wanting the damn procedure to be done already. He wiggled his toes and fingers to satisfied the surgeon. “I can move, see, and I can talk which means I’m obviously breathing, if I’m breathing fine that means I don’t feel dizzy and since I’m answering you that means I can hear you,” he bit back, becoming increasingly irritated with how long he’d been lying here.

What was it, seven hours now?

“Alright then, smart ass,” he heard, imagining McCoy was frowning at him. “The parasite is out, but I can’t know the extent of the damage it’s done until I do a bunch of examinations when you wake up, so I’m gonna put you back to sleep now, okay?”

Jim groaned. He should’ve known this wouldn’t have been the end to his predicament.

“Bones,” he mumbled, “I don’t want this to carry on…”

There was some rustling, and he heard a whispered ‘ _I trust you to do it’,_ before McCoy came around to his line of vision with blooded scrubs.

“Whatever’s going to happen, whatever damage it has done, I’ll be with you every step of the way, okay?” he said, dragging a stool over, sitting down and wheeling off elsewhere.

“Where’s Christine?” Jim mumbled, noticing the heart rate beeping increasingly furiously.

“I’m here Jim, I’m just closing you up.” He heard from behind him. McCoy wheeled back with a tray of medical supplies and started connecting them to each other.

“I don’t want to sleep” Jim breathed, watching McCoy dig a syringe into a white bottle.

“Well I’m not keeping you awake any longer, you need to heal and now is a better time to start than later,” McCoy retorted, pulling the syringe out and lifting Jim’s hand. Jim looked down at the IV tube already in the back of his hand, wondering how it got there.

“But…” Jim’s eyes were fixed at on McCoy, who dug the syringe into Jim’s IV, and the younger man instantly began thrashing.

“Jim,” McCoy warned, pressing a hand down on his chest, “Settle down, you’re gonna go to sleep and you’re gonna wake up in a few hours.”

Jim shook his head and yanked his hand away, seeing the annoyance on the doctor’s face.

“Damn it Jim, stop moving!” he grabbed the hand back. “I’d give you a hypo but I can only this medication in an IV, so stay the hell still.”

And with that, McCoy pushed the syringe in the tube and pressed down. Instantly Jim could feel the cold liquid rushing through his veins, his vision beginning to spin, his breathing becoming irregular.   
“I…don’t…want…to…”

But Jim was only offered a reassuring smile before the world faded to black, hearing the words “We might need to intubate if it gets any lower,” before passing out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim can't catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought that last chapter was the end of Jim's suffering then you were wrong  
> Very very wrong  
> :)

Jim woke up half-asleep on a cloud. A very floaty cloud. It was very soft and funny and—

“Hey, open your eyes Jim.”   
He groaned, reminding himself to confiscate all medical monitors aka throw them all out the window when he got better.

_Time to face reality already?_

So, he peeled open his eyelids, feeling like a ton of bricks were trying to weigh them down. It was an effort to force them open. McCoy was standing over him, staring into his soul.

“Huuuuh” Jim slurred, slowly moving his head to look at his body, that felt like it wasn’t even there. There were strips of wires everywhere; all over his arms, over the bed, under the bed, on his feet, even in his chest.

“How you feelin’? It’s been slightly longer than a few hours like I promised, maybe about four days is more accurate.”

Jim bolted upright, but McCoy was already ready for his outburst and shoved him back down, as if trying to provoke him on purpose.

He scowled. “Y’let m’ sleep’f ‘or days?” he ran a finger down the tube coming out of his chest, “Wha’appen?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” McCoy asked, yanking away Jim’s hand from the tubing.

“Mmmm….” Jim tried to think back to forty decades ago.   
_Oh wait, I’m not forty hahahaha.  
McCoy is forty hahah!!_

“What _you_ laughin’ about?”  
Jim lifted a sleepy hand and lazily pointy to McCoy. “Y’forty”

“I’m forty. Uh huh. I was the last time I checked.” He looked up at the monitor overhead of him, “Now what’s the last thing you remember?”

Jim thought hard and carefully over the last thing he remembers. Then it hit him.   
“Ahhh--!” Jim gasped, McCoy whipping himself to stare at him for discomfort and about to drug him to hell, “I remember!”  
McCoy frowned.   
“Y’ told m’ to opn’ m’ eyezzz”

McCoy looked as if he wanted to bash his head against the wall. Both his and Jim’s.   
“Whose bright idea was it to drug him this much?”   
Jim reached out a hand and tugged on the doctor’s shirt. He spun around to face him quizzically. Jim steadied himself to speak: a task that only the greatest of the great could accomplish. He took a deep breath, preparing for the words he was about to emit out of his mouth;

“M’ dyiiingg” Jim whined, rolling his head around the pillow. McCoy’s frown bent into a smile, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Not anymore you’re not.”

Jim squinted. He felt like he was sitting inside a four-million-degree furnace, and that there were needles everywhere while simultaneously being hit by lightning. Twelve times.

“I _feel_ like m’dying…” McCoy scowled in response to that, and Jim grimaced as the IV in his arm tugged. He turned his head to the side, watching McCoy push another syringe with white looking liquid down the tube. Jim eyed it like a child discovering grass for the first time.

“Cool,” he muttered following the liquid’s presence through the tube, which eventually hit his veins. At that, Jim, yelped and thrashed his hand around everywhere.

“Shit! What’s wrong Jim?” McCoy knelt over and held him steady.

“It’s cold,” he mumbled, his hands shaking, “Get it out…”

McCoy sighed, letting Jim go and giving him a curious look. But Jim shook his left hand around, then with his other hand, grabbed the tube attached and started yanking it out.   
“Fucking hell, Jim!” McCoy grabbed something from a tray that Jim was unable to see, and couldn’t even begin to process what was going in, what with how slow his brain was working, and with the fact that McCoy had just jabbed him in the neck with a sedative, and was out like a light.

…

Chapel came bounding over at the sound of the alarms screeching from down the hallway.

“What happened? Is he alright?” she ran eyes over Jim’s peaceful sleeping form.

“Yeah. He was in pain, so I gave him a painkiller, it was cold going into his veins, so it scared him and he tried to yank the tube out. So, he’s sedated.” Then he paused for effect, “Again.”

“He’s delirious?” she asked anxiously.

“It’s all the drugs he’s on. That’s what I hope at least,” McCoy grabbed his PADD from the table and started running through all the drugs Jim was on, “He’s damn well been sedated for four days, I need to start examining him.”

Chapel offered a half-smile and turned to look at the door, “Enterprise’ bridge crew have been comming me, asking to see him.”

“Yeah? Well they’ll have to wait a bit longer.” He dropped his PADD back onto the table and sat down next to Jim, the bed dipping. “I, uh, found that there doesn’t seem to be any damage caused by the extensive surgery, but I can’t rule that out until he’s properly awake.”

…

Three more days passed, and Jim felt more awake than he had in ages; the elephants on his eyelids had decided to wander off.

Smiling, he opened his eyes to find he was alone this time, in some prestige white room, and it smelled horribly of antiseptic.

Wrinkling his nose, Jim attempted to sit up, taking in his new surroundings. Bile rose to his throat and a huge weight smashed onto his head, his bones weighing him to the bed. Cracking open his eyes, everything was blurry, and Jim felt so god damn weak, his muscles were jelly. His mouth fell lax and he felt the rest of his face follow. And his head. Oh god his head was so heavy.

He tried his luck in standing-- high pitched wailing in his ears ensued, the floor and ceiling spinning out of control. But he had to try.

Lifting one heavy foot-- more like dragging, he made it slowly across to what looked like a door. He approached it, wishing it would open faster so he would have less time to think about how tired he felt, then the doors hissed after what felt like entire minutes.

He stepped out, but everything else was white and smelled exactly the same. The room was spinning more too. And so was his stomach.

He looked further into the distance and saw a red spec-- and another, and another-- and-- or was there only one?

Squinting at his terrible vision, he saw a blue blob emerge from the wall, and after very slowly moving across the floor, the blue blob took off down the corridors towards him at maximum speed.

Jim shrugged inwardly and slowly turned the opposite direction, much of his eyesight zooming in and out like a camera. A loud humming noise started from behind him, making Jim spin around to face the noise; the blue blob was right in front of him, making loud humming sounds and pressing hands all over his body.

As Jim was about to walk away, his legs buckled and he would have gone plummeting to the floor, before something had appeared under his armpits and started hauling him upright. The blue blob covered his entire line of vision now, too close, and Jim shut his eyes. A weird feeling was pressed onto the skin on his face, some strange windy breeze passing through.

"Hhhhumhggh" he moaned quietly. His head lulled backwards as his body gave in, ending up pulling both of them to the floor in a giant heap. Yet, he still couldn't hear what was going on. He tried exceptionally hard to focus, but was growing weaker and weaker, feeling loss of consciousness was imminent.

Eventually, he let go, and his last thoughts were _where am I_ before succumbing to nothingness.

...

"Idiot! You fucking idiot!" Bones was yelling from above him, disturbing his nap. He moaned and tried to turn the other side, but two firm hands grabbed and yanked him onto his back again.

"What the hell were you thinking? Waltzing around here like you haven’t just had major surgery?" Bones' shouting was on a roll, "Do you have any idea how long it took me to do that procedure? Are you fucking out of your mind?"

Jim squirmed and shuffled under the array of blankets at the yelling, wanting the man to go away.

"M'sorry..." he muttered, noticing a significant amount of nausea in his stomach.

"Like hell you are! You--"

Jim gagged and vomited over the side of the bed, gripping the sheets so hard he was shaking.

"Oh, okay come on," Bones lay him on his back and ran a scanner over him.

"You've a fever. See what you've done?"

Jim grimaced. "Fffuck o-off, Bones..."

"You plan on dying today too?"

"God…Bones, stop... I didn't... know where I was...okay?" Jim didn’t want to listen to this accusing loud voice anymore, he wanted to sleep.

“You didn’t know were you were? Well, did it never occur to you why there’s a giant red button laying pretty right behind your god damned head.”

Jim inched to the side to see what he was talking about. Like he said, there was indeed a big red button on the wall, reading _emergency use only_ labelled on the top.  
“M’ didn’t know… t’was there…”

A hand slammed onto the wall, radiating through Jim’s ears. He grunted and shut his eyes.   
“You’ve gotta be some new level kinda stupid to think that wanderin’ around after I’ve only just been elbow deep in your fucking blood!”

Jim ran his hands over his face.   
“I said m’sorry… wanna sleep now Bones…”

There was silence from the older man, probably deciding whether or not to rip him a new nostril. Not that he’d want to go back into surgery. Again.   
“Probably better that way,” he heard was muttered from above him, before a hypo was jammed into his neck. He yelped and was about to rub the sting from the attack, but he passed out before his arm could move an inch from the blanket.

….

Jim had been awake for at least three hours now, but he didn’t dare move, in case the furious doctor with an outrageous bedside manner had it in for him.

He was miserable, not being allowed to move, not being allowed to sit up and practically fed only with liquids, and that was if he could ever keep it down. Bones had also restricted _everyone_ from the crew from seeing him until further notice.

Another way of putting it, was Jim was pissed.   
McCoy approached him again, for the sixth time in the ten minutes. His features were as usual furrowed and in thought, as if something was wrong.

“You haven’t spoken a word since yesterday,” Bones acknowledged, folding his arms and staring down at Jim’s vulnerable form, “I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong, so speak up now before I start doing things,” he sneered, “ _Things_ that you won’t like.”

Jim scoffed and rolled onto his side, ignoring the disapproving sounds that his captor was making at the slight movement. “What’d I tell you about moving around without assistance?”

_I don’t need assistance to roll on my fucking side._

“Might as well keep you there, if you’ve screwed something up it’s your own fault.”

_Or maybe you’re just a terrible doctor and I don’t give a fuck what you think._

“Speak to me, Jim.”

_Just fuck off already._

“Damn it Jim, I’m a doctor, not a psychic! Speak to me before I make you speak to a psychiatrist!”

_At least the shrink isn’t going to scrutinize my every damn move._

Jim held back a yelp as the bed was suddenly moving back, sending a scowl over McCoy’s way. But the callous doctor was as quiet as he was.

_Looks like we’re both giving each other the silent treatment._

Unexpectedly, Jim jerked as warm hands started moving around his neck, behind his ears, and then a gentle sigh. “The swelling’s gone, and I can’t find anything wrong, so you’re being mute on purpose.”

_How long did it take for you to figure that one out, smart-ass?_

“Just to be sure,” a weird circular thing was pressed to the site of his head. Jim scoffed and slapped the hand away, pushing the horrid man away from him and turning the other way.

“Jim.” The man started approaching again, “You can’t stay like this forever. I can’t help you if you keep giving me the cold shoulder.”

Jim was literally seeing red at this point.   
“What you gonna do, sedate me for another three weeks as a punishment?”

There was a quiet sigh, and the brush of cloth against his arm that was hanging over his body, telling him that Bones was right behind him again.

“Is that what this is about? ‘Cos I sedated you?”

“Not just that,” he mumbled under his breath.

_Fucking isolated me from the rest of the planet and treating me like an insane person._

“Then what? Tell me what’s wrong, Jim.”

Jim clenched his fists and let out a shaky breath.   
“I’m sick of the way you treat me, Bones!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, yanking his body back the right way so he was facing him again, startling the doctor.

“No-one’s allowed to see me, no-one can comm me, I’m not allowed to move a fucking toe without being scrutinized, I can’t even have my PADD! I’m just stuck here staring at the ceiling as your fucking pet!”

McCoy’s expression went through the motions of anger to sadness and settling for calm.  
“You scared the hell out of me when you went wandering off, Jim.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m lucid now! I know what I’m doing and I’m not going to walk off, I can hardly sit up. I didn’t know what I was doing back then, I was drugged to hell and delusional!”

McCoy pursed his lips together, bouncing on heels in position for a bit before turning to the wall panel. “McCoy to bridge, Mister Spock can you spare a few minutes?”

Jim looked suspiciously at Bones. Surely he wouldn’t have changed his mind this quickly?

“Spock here. Affirmative, what do you require?”

McCoy glanced down at Jim’s scowling face. “The Captain’s lonely and won’t shut up about talking to outsiders, care to come down and keep him company?”

Jim smirked and wiggled back down under the blankets in satisfaction.   
Finally, someone he could talk to. Hell, even Spock going over quantum physics for twelve hours straight would be better than Bones lecturing him.

“I will relieve myself of duty only with the Captain’s permission.”

McCoy rolled his eyes and looked towards Jim, who was copying the expression. Carefully, he rolled back onto his side and shouted, “You’re the Captain now Spock, you decide.”

_You better fucking agree to it or so god help me when I get my position back you’ll be cleaning toilets for three days._

“The lack of situation on the bridge and the conditions of the Captain require that it would be logical to visit him. I will be down immediately. Spock out.”

Jim sighed in relief. Spock should be relieved too, since he’s not, you know, gonna be cleaning toilets anytime soon.

McCoy stomped back over to him with a scowl on his face. “Happy, Jim?”

Jim nodded and dipped his head back onto the pillow. He was always good at getting his own way.

…..

Jim lay sprawled out across the bed, arms and legs dangling off the side because that was how far from the bed he was permitted to go.

Finally, a miraculous being sauntered through the door, to solve his never-ending boredom (or loneliness, but Jim would never admit that.)

"Spock," Jim acknowledged after the Vulcan had taken no more than three steps into the room.

"Captain." He took a seat next to Jim, looking as blank and unreadable as ever. Perhaps guess the emotion would be a new game he could play.

McCoy appeared from behind Spock, "Jim, I gotta go with Christine to update Starfleet 'bout what's happenin'," he paused and turned to Spock, "Do **_not_** let him out of your sight."

Spock gave a curt nod and returned to Jim's side, as McCoy slowly and cautiously left.

"How's our ship?"

Spock craned his head to the side slightly at the question, "We have not received orders from Starfleet as of yet. They are beginning to ask for shore leave in the meantime."

Jim stretched out and flopped onto his side, "Ahh, let 'em, it's gonna be a while before I'm let outta here."

Spock watched his every movement, "The decision is ultimately yours, Jim."

Jim's eyes lit up, "You called me Jim!"

Spock was suddenly revaluating the dialogue over the past 3 years, "That is your name, is it not?"

Jim flapped a hand in dismissal, "Yeah, but I mean, you're the Captain now, Spock!" he punched him in the arm half-heartedly, "It's your choice."

Spock shuffled back, "Very well, I will begin preparations."

Jim nodded and rolled back onto his back. He really wished he could go there with them, it's been such a long time...

But over-protective Bones won't let him put a toe on the ground.

He looked around briefly, and there was no one there but them. Better make the most of Bones not being here...

"Hey Spock?"

The Vulcan twisted towards him.

"D'ya mind walking me 'round the block and back? My legs are achey as hell."

Spock contemplated this,

"Are you not allowed out of sight?"

"Yeah. But you can come with me. I mean, or are you not capable of watching me?"

_Pushing his ego would always work my way._

"I will guide you. But you will not be allowed out of my sight."

Jim sat up immediately, gesturing for Spock to silence the alarms.

This plan was awesome!

Not only was he gonna get out of bed, but he was going to _walk_ out the _door_!

"Be careful, Captain," Spock warned, realising he was already drained of colour. But that was normal, not being up and about at all for more than a week.

Jim gripped onto Spock's arms to steady him, then swung over his legs, instantly falling forward and would have ended up on the floor if Spock wasn't in the way.

"Are you certain you are functioning adequately enough to stand?"

Jim chuckled slightly, he wasn't going to throw this chance away.

"'Course, just takes some getting used to, you know? Now help me up."

So, Jim was hauled onto his feet, and the second his toes touched the marble, the world caved in on him; his feet buckling as he plummeted to the ground. Strong hands nabbed him and kept him upright before his face impacted with the ground, however.

"Captain. You are not well enough for this."

"Pffft," Jim scoffed, "Gimme a chance, Spock! I'm getting there,"

Either Spock was too trusting in Jim or was convinced Jim still had more control over him, because he let him continue his journey to the door.

Half way across the room, slow steps and a very patient Vulcan were a good mix. Jim was glad it was Spock helping him and not Bones.

Speaking of, he really hoped Bones wouldn't be back anytime soon.

_Left foot. Right foot. Left--breathe--right foot, left foot--breathe, right--breathe--breathe--"_

"Do you require seating?"

Jim almost jumped out of his skin at the voice.

"Ahh...M'nooo'sssokaay,"

This time Jim wasn't ushered on.

"Are you quite alright?"

Jim took a breath.

_Just let me walk._

"Door," Jim exhaled, eyes fixated on the rectangular goal.

"You must rest, Jim." A hand unexpectedly reached to his shoulder, and he flinched away.

"You... nerve...pinch...?" he tried to catch his breath.

"No, Jim." the hand only steadied him and ushered him on again.

Eventually Jim was facing the corridor again, fluorescent white lights bleeding into his darkening vision, like flashes of lighting in the middle of the night.

"How are you feeling?" The voice of Spock asked next to him.

"Sssso brigh'...." Jim slurred, feeling his legs wobbling.

But he pushed on and continued walking.

"Where’ crew," Jim looked around.

"This is Starfleet Medical."

Jim scowled.

"I know mmm'hat..." he sucked in more air, "Ss'uhh'sss'ahhh a.... liil...mmm..mahhh...looowyee"

"Captain?" Spock's voice was thick with unhidden concern.

"I neee'sheeee...aah... reew.."

He lazily sluggishly moved his head to the side, everything looked the same.

"Mmm..ghhh-ahh neaa ahggg...cahgaag"

At that moment, Jim's legs completely went to jelly, he fell to the side and landed with a crack as his head collided with the metal ground.

He felt a million miles away from everyone, voices and sounds being projected as echoes, in a dream-state.

In slow motion, hands were on his wrist then on his face, saying words his brain didn't bother to take in. They were just sounds.

And then everything was gone like a light.

...

"Captain?" Spock shook him harder, grasping a limp arm.

" ** _Captain_**?" he shouted with more urgency.

Nothing.

Deciding to prop him against the wall, Spock put one arm under Jim's chest and a hand behind his head--before retracted it completely in surprise.

Thick layers of blood were all over his hand, and from a quick glance to Jim, it was easy to see it was coming out of his head, pooling onto the floor like a tap filling a sink with water.

Immediately, Spock grabbed the communicator from his pocket and hailed McCoy, staring nervously at it, failing to battle the emotions threatening to show its face.

"McCoy here," came the reply, "Spock?" it was now laced with suspicion.

"Doctor, you must come immediately, the Captain is injured."

There was a silence followed by a string of curses.

"Fuck! Why did I leave him alone with you?! Where the hell is he?"

Spock swallowed the insult, "Just outside his designated area," he instructed, watching the crimson liquid take over the marble.

The line ended, and all both men could do, was wait until a doctor, and likely a very angry one, arrived.

Spock shuffled closer, gently shrugging off Jim’s overcoat, making sure he didn’t jostle his head around too much. Then, he carefully maneuverered the coat under the head wound, pressing it as a compress until McCoy arrived.

…

"Damn it," McCoy ran to the commotion of... well, two men. He took a single glance at Jim and clenched his teeth, "Damn it, Spock!"

The Vulcan's reply was to very slightly shake his head, glaring at Jim and not taking his eyes off him. Whether he was too afraid to look at McCoy was a different question.

"Trust you to be left alone with him for two minutes and he's gone fucked himself up," McCoy grumbled, running a scanner over him, "Incompetent idiots, the both of you."

The Vulcan glanced up at him.

_That struck a cord._

"He had given me the impression that he could roam the building, if under guidance."

McCoy scoffed, "And you believed him?"

Sensing the rhetorical question, Spock didn't reply.

"Alright, looks like the wound reopened but nothing serious," McCoy mumbled, tucking the scanner away and reaching for another tool, "I'll use a protoplaser to stem the bleeding and get him up to medbay. Again." he said, with an emphasis on _again_. He was losing count of how many times he had dragged the man back up there.

Gently, he tugged at the compress tucked under his head, putting a finger there and running the device over it.

"What actually happened?" he asked over his shoulder, "I mean, I know he fell but what symptoms?"

"He was slurring his words. Shaking."

McCoy furrowed his eyebrows and stuffed the protoplaser back in his medkit. "You carrying or calling for a hoverbed?"

The answer to that was clear as Spock only sat staring at Jim's form.

Long, loud groaning noises emitted from Jim's lips, McCoy's eyes snapped up to meet his.

" _Mmmmmrghn_..."

McCoy gave him a reassuring squeeze of his hand, "Hey, kid."

Jim sluggishly dropped his head to the other side, groaning again.

"Hey, hey, don't move your head," he turned to Spock, "Hold his head still while I call for a hover bed, will you?"

Spock nodded and shuffled behind Jim, gripping his head tightly which left Jim with his eyes squeezed shut and moaning.

His eyes fluttered open and shut again, desperate to stay awake.

McCoy slipped one hand into Jim's, grabbing his communicator with the other.

Jim didn't react.

Frowning, he called down to sickbay.

"McCoy to medical, I need assistance in the uh..." he looked around for where he was.

"Corridor D3" Spock spoke loudly.

"Uh...yeah, what he said." he glanced at Spock with a brief thanks expression.

"We're on our way down, doctor."

"Bring a spinal board, there's a potential injury," he quickly added, glancing down at Jim, who didn't seem aware of McCoy gripping his hand.  Stuffing the communicator away, McCoy took the chance to run a scanner over him again.

"Jim?" McCoy looked for recognition in those eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling, what with Spock firmly holding him still.

"Mmm," Jim hummed tiredly. McCoy continued his gaze for a few more seconds before opening his med kit, taking a needle and shifting closer. He took his arm, gently piercing his skin.

Jim didn't budge.

Taking a breath, McCoy asked "You feel that?"

Jim sighed, "Feel what?"

Gritting his teeth, McCoy threw the needle away and picked out a larger one, shuffling to his leg. He poked him with it, and again Jim didn't move.

"You gotta be kidding me..." McCoy muttered, throwing that needle away too, grabbing the scanner and going over him with it again.

"Wha' goin' on..." Jim mumbled sleepily.

"Uhh, you're gonna be okay," he said, not so sure himself. "How's your breathing Jim?"

Jim shifted his head, making Spock clamp down on it harder, causing him to whine.

" _Fine_!" he squeaked.

"Okay, tell me if you're strugglin',"

So, McCoy sat and stared at Jim, unable to do anything else.

...

It was a loud buzzing noise that woke Jim first.  His body felt fuzzy and weird, so he couldn't tell if his requests to his limbs to move were working.

Opening his eyes, the world was surprisingly crystal clear. Several people in white uniforms were accompanying the top of his vision now. McCoy was holding something down against Jim's forehead, expression more serious than he had ever seen. He realised Spock was still holding his head when he tried to turn to look around him.

But then Spock moved into his line of sight, and Jim was confused. Eyes darting around manically, he tried to make sense of the situation.

Something was around his head, and touching his neck.

"I can't move my head!" Jim almost shouted, trying to struggle but he couldn't tell if his body was responding. "Why can't I feel anything?"

"It's alright, try to calm down sir," a nurse who was practically on top of him said.

Now wasn't a time where Jim could construct jokes about her position.

"Why can't I move?!" he bellowed, yanking his head forward in an attempt to get out. It was when he had rocked his head to the side with too much force that the rest of his body automatically followed. That was when he realised his entire body was wrapped in straps against a board.

"What the fuck!" Jim watched his arms and tried to move them to plan an escape, but nothing was happening. "What the hell is wrong with me?!"

At that moment, Jim was hoisted onto his back again, McCoy preparing a hypo in the distance was the first thing he saw.

"No! I don't.... want...." he hissed through clenched teeth, trying hard to get his legs to respond. "Fuck!"

A hand against his shoulder made his head jerk to the side.

"Easy, easy," McCoy muttered from the side of him, pressing a hand to his neck.

"No!" Jim shouted desperately, "Please!"

"You gotta calm down kid, or I'm gonna have to make ya."

Jim spent 3 seconds trying to relax before the desperate thoughts of not being able to move overwhelmed him again.

Jim sobbed, "What's happening to m-me?"

Another sound of a strap tightening from below him made him attempt to sit up but screamed in frustration at not being able to move.

He caught someone nodding at McCoy and the sting to his neck couldn't be stopped in time.

Everything went black.

...

The second time Jim woke up, his head felt weird, and instantly he could tell that something was off. And he still couldn't move.

Tearing his eyes open, the only thing Jim saw was the floor. A very blurry one at that. He was exhausted, and wanted to fall back to sleep, but his heart was hammering at the position he was in.

Counting the tiles on the floor, Jim began to get irritated with the cushioned padded mould that was pushing against his face, and realised it was probably there as a comfy alternative to his head being flopped at the end of the bed. He thought some more, trying to make sense of where he was, and concluded that he was lying on his stomach, face in a cushioned head rest hole so whoever it was had access to his back. Or the back of his head. What did they want?

He couldn't move, they could do whatever they wanted to him and he couldn't defend himself. Like an experiment.

He was so vulnerable like this.

_Strange, I don't remember making an appointment for a massage table._

"You there Jim?"

Ah, it's McCoy, apparently came for a massage too.

"Mm'ere"

"Thought so, heart rate just picked up out of nowhere. I'll be done in a few minutes, alright?"

So, not a massage then.

"Don' put m'to sleep" he mumbled, tired. "M' just waking up..."

He heard McCoy scoff.

"Like hell you are. I need to finish this."

Before he could argue, he was out like a light. Clearly the hypo went into his body and he was too numb to feel it.

...

The third time he woke up, he instantly recognised the jagged edges of an oxygen mask pressed against his face. Everything felt dreamy, he was definitely dreaming. Cracking open his eyes, he noticed it was pitch black, and he was propped upright on a biobed.

There were grey moving figures around the room, obviously they were goats.

He wanted to touch the goat, they were so cool! And fluffy, and goats talked to him. He wanted the goat.

"Hello" Jim croaked out with a tiny voice. Seconds later, a tall figure was beside him, a hand against his forehead.

"Hi Jim," whispered a voice, clearly not wanting to alarm the goats.

Where did it go? The goat was gone.

"Where'sss th' goat?" Jim slurred, feeling sad.

"What do you mean, Jim?" the female voice spoke up a bit.

"I'm in a dream I think" Jim observed his unreal goat dream "I really want the goat please"

There was silence in the blackened room, apart from the steady beeping of machines.

"Goat?" Jim asked again. He was in a parallel world full of goats. "I don't feel real" Jim whispered, "I feel funny" then he paused, "Goat."

The figure held up something against his head, which started making a weird beeping noise.

"I... mmm goat" he breathed, trying to ignore the beeping.

It suddenly stopped.

"Hang on, Jim," the voice came back, then the figure walked off.

Jim frowned, he felt really vulnerable and his head felt swimmy. Nothing definitely was real, but all Jim could think about was goats.

Shortly after, a figure that had a dark blue tint to it came into view, followed by the other grey figure he saw earlier.

"Hi" Jim greeted them sleepily, "I feel... goat"

Jim almost screamed when a harsh light suddenly flicked on in one of his eyes, waving around, then moved to the other eye.

"Go away!" he shrieked, feeling even more tired than before. What really confused Jim was how the world started falling down. In fact, he was falling backwards and came face to face with the ceiling. And there was no goat. There was mumbling that Jim couldn't make out, and a lot of movement.

"I.... dreaming..." he exhaled in awe. Hands clasped the side of his face, fingers pushing under his jaw until his mouth magically opened all by itself!

"Augh eta mahik!" he tried to speak, the dark blue figure had put something in his mouth to stop his tongue from moving!

More mumbling, and Jim started to feel anxious. Another tune of beeping on his left, another one his right, then suddenly pressure was gone and he could close his mouth again.

A sting to his neck.

"Ow" he muttered, growing frustrated at the beeping. And another. And another. Then more movement to the side of him, and his head started growing fuzzy.

He blinked sluggishly, trying to stay awake. The mask was pulled off, only for it to be strapped back seconds later. Except this mask tasted funny, it was like fruit.

"Strawberries" Jim muttered tiredly, feeling himself getting pulled under. The beeping started echoing, and suddenly he was very far away.

"G...gh....gugghh..."

Then there was nothing.

...

"Is he asleep?" a nurse had asked.

"I think so," McCoy muttered, checking the monitors again, "Thanks for getting me."

"What's wrong with him?"

McCoy scowled, "Aren't you supposed to be a nurse?” he sneered, “Obviously he's had an allergic reaction to a drug _you've_ given him."

The nurse gave a quiet "okay" and scurried off, making a hasty retreat, leaving McCoy to his patient.

"Damn it, can't you go one day without something happening?" he grumbled to the unconscious man, "I better be getting fifty damn commendations and three medals of honours by the time I've nursed your negligent sensitive ass back to health," he sighed and gave another just-in-case shot to Jim's thigh, then left him to sleep the rest of the night through.

...

Jim awoke with a start, a sharp pain throbbing behind his eyes.

"Uggghhh..."

"Hey Jimbo, you done givin' us heart attacks yet?"

He opened his eyes to see McCoy looming over him. “You remember what happened a few hours ago?”

Jim stared up at McCoy looking remarkably stoic in such ways that would impress Spock.

"Bones" he whispered, hoarseness of his throat becoming known to him. The fact he couldn't move a single limb also became known to him. He glanced down at his fingers, willing them to obey, but they refused.

" _Bones_ " he repeated in urgency.

"You done screwed up your spinal cord, kid."

"I can't move... my legs and arms won't move... but..." he sat up, arms limply dragging across the mattress, "I can feel my stomach..."

"I know," Bones shoved him back down, "Partial paralysis is what you've done now, idiot."

Jim's throat tightened, and for once it wasn't allergies.

"Can you fix it?" he asked with an unmanly squeak.

'I don't know," Bones sat next to him, dipping the bed down.

"But I'm gonna damn well try."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I think it's pretty obvious by now that this story is mostly focusing on the relationship between the crew and Kirk, especially between Bones and Jim, and going through the recovery period together. There's not any action-packed plot, mostly just fluff, friendship and a lot of hurt/comfort. I think you've all got the message but thought I'd make it clear in case you were expecting him to suddenly stand up and go off fighting bad guys as if nothing happened :)**

\----

"Remember Jim, just one hour then you're going back to bed. No forcing your limbs to work." McCoy was leading Kirk down in a wheelchair to a room that Starfleet had given him permission to use.

"How long until it starts working properly?" Jim asked impatiently. The man wanted the impossible _now_.

"One hour every day of this procedure and you should notice a difference in a week. At best."

He nodded, feeling embarrassment wash over him as a nurse he recognised from the Enterprise passed by him in the corridor.

The door hissed open, revealing a room that was so brightly plain white that it might just burn a hole in their retinas. There was one table-chair slap bang in the middle of the room.

"Okay Jim, take a seat," McCoy gestured to the only form of seating in the entire room.

Jim took one glance at it, then caved in.

_Oh god._

"Jim? Sit down on it."

_Oh god it looks exactly the same._

_It can't be._

"Earth to Jim?" he faintly felt someone shaking him.

"I can't" Jim spat out much too quickly.

"Why not? Hey hey hey--" McCoy gripped an arm round his chest as he fell forward in the wheelchair. "Jim? Come on kid, don't pass out on me,"

"Mmmm..." Jim swayed a little, feeling McCoy's grip ground him. "Mmm'srry 'bout that"

"You wanna tell me what that was about?"

Jim gave a long drawn out sigh, "I... Tarsus" he began. That was all he needed to say.

McCoy's eyebrows furrowed so far together it looked remarkably like a uni brow.

"There's nothin' else I can think of, Jim..." he admit, gently letting go of the blonde.

"Kodos, he..." Jim froze at the memory of the man he'd only just gotten rid of, "Held me down on one of those things, wanted to know where the kids were.. I hid them, he.. I..." Jim's breathing started getting quicker, "He did something to my back, that's why.. the scar, Bones, I... I can't, I can't--I can't.. can't..."

"Jim, listen here--"

"Can't... can't..."

McCoy grabbed the wheelchair handles and started moving him towards the door.

"No-wait!"

The wheelchair screeched as it suddenly came to a stop.

"Let me try... just give me time okay? Please let me try, I don't want to stay like this, please,"

Bones sighed, turning it back around again and parking it next to the chair.

"It's your choice, Jim."

"I wanna... just wait, please"

So, that's what he did.

...

"Okay, I'm gonna help you up onto it, alright?"

A firm nod.

"On three, one... two.... three!" And Jim was hauled up from the wheelchair with strength McCoy never knew he had, and had practically dumped him on the patient chair-table.

"You alright?"

Another nod.

"Okay, shuffle back, if you can?"

Jim managed to wiggle his way into the crook of the chair, looking around cautiously.

McCoy sat on the stool behind him, rolling closer so he was inches away from his head.

"Alright, you doin’ okay?"

Nod nod.

It wasn't always that McCoy was so gentle with people, but somehow today Jim was an exception.

"Okay, I need you to lie back so your head is against the head rest-- there you go, a little more-- that's it," he muttered, running fingers along the chair panel, "I'm gonna lay it down flat okay?"

This time there wasn't a nod.

"Jim?"

"Just-- yeah, okay" Jim whispered. McCoy hesitated, but brought the table down flat, waiting a few minutes for Jim to adjust.

"You alright?"

Nod nod.

"Okay, now what I'm gonna do is--" McCoy paused to drag a weird looking machine on wheels over, two parts of it he could manauver around. The first part he adjusted so it was pulled across Jim's body, the other was a microscope he adjusted up to his height, "--This should be able to reach your spine, and it's going to force your body to restructure itself into a way I see fit, which is what this thing here is for, so I can watch," he tapped on the microscope. "It's kinda like a protoplaser but it's used on extremely delicate places."

Jim gave a small hum to show he was listening.

"Now I'm gonna get it to rewire the lower region of the Thoracic spine and most of the Lumbar section," he explained carefully, "It's delicate and it's going to take weeks, but eventually it should be at a point where you can train your muscles to work again, okay?"

Jim shut his eyes and nodded, McCoy noticing easily that he was perspiring more than usual.

"Do you want a sedative?"

Jim shook his head.

"Okay. I need to give you a small shot in your back so the camera gets in, it's so small you can't see it with the naked eye."

Jim shifted, likely in an attempt to turn onto his side, but groaned and flopped back when he couldn't.

"Here," McCoy gently gripped his waist and pushed him to roll onto his side, holding a firm grasp on his hip to keep him that way. With the other hand, McCoy picked up a hypospray, noticing Jim's eyes were squeezed shut, then as quickly as safely possible, administered the hypo into his back. Jim winced but didn't say anything, so was moved flat again.

Only when McCoy lowered the height of the bed enough so he could see over Jim's face did he realise how pale and trembling he was.

_That would explain the obedient silence._

"Do you want me to get Christine? Or Spock?" McCoy knew Jim needed comfort and probably would make it through this entire procedure without getting panicked.

But Jim only shook his head.

Sighing, McCoy put a reassuring hand on Jim's shoulder and got up to go to a box at the end of the room, usually full of kids’ stuff. He pulled out blankets, and came marching back to Jim expecting protests, but he was met only with lips trembling and deathly pale skin.

So, he draped the blankets over him, running comforting fingers through Jim's forehead until his breathing evened out.

"I'm gonna start now, need you to stay really still," he mumbled, pulling one piece of the machine down closer so it was practically touching Jim's chest. It meant he was restricted with the large machine hovering over him, but Jim didn't complain.

"Bones?" Jim called for him in a quiet voice.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being so patient with me" he admitted softly.

McCoy chuckled, "S'alright, sounds like I do have a bedside manner after all, huh?" he offered a smile, but the sudden loud clunk and whirring of machine made Jim jerk back in surprise.

"It's alright, it won't hurt you," McCoy muttered reassurances, making sure the kid had settled before focusing on the procedure at hand. He gazed back to the microscope, carefully watching as the machine that had Jim literally clamped down to the table was starting to rewire his injured spine.

...

Twenty minutes into the procedure and Jim was drifting off to sleep. Exhausted, and comfy on the table with blankets, he found himself blinking rapidly to fight off the incoming unconsciousness.

A hand to his chest jolted him awake,

"You okay?" He realised it was Bones, offering a small smile.

"M'dizzy but..." he took in a breath, "...fine"

McCoy was looking at him fiercely, as if trying to make a new diagnosis using only his eyes and eyebrows.

"You can sleep if you want to," Jim heard him say, "I'm still able to give you a sedative?"

Jim shook his head no, not wanting the feeling of someone forcefully stealing his consciousness without his will again.

He watched as Bones rolled aside for a second, coming back with a cup of water.

"Come on, drink up," he mused, holding it to Jim's lips. "You're dehydrated."

Jim gratefully nabbed the water and downed it all in one go.

Thoughts about the Klingon that put him in here in the first place crowded his mind. Was he still in the brig?

"No, I let him go."

Oh, he said that out loud?

.... Wait..

"You let him go?" Jim croaked out, suddenly wanting more water.

"He told me everything he did to you, I agreed to let him go."

Jim's heart began thudding in his chest; so that Klingon is in federation space with a shuttle? He could bring other Klingons here!

Jim let out a small gasp and started thrashing, setting alarms off on the machines that held him.

"Jim!" McCoy shut the machine off, likely to avoid damage, whipping it aside and holding him down with a firm hand.

"I need to go, I need to find him!" Jim struggled harder under McCoy's hand, his damn legs weren't budging!

_Move! Move! Move!_

"Jim, calm down! Dammit..." he went off searching for his med kit, and this riled Jim up even more. If he was asleep, he couldn't do anything.

He pushed his body, his chest, with everything he had.

_Must get off the bed._

At the corner of his eye, Jim saw the glint of a hypospray that McCoy was holding. He jerked his head to the side and looked up it the CMO pleadingly,

"No," he muttered, ramming his waist backwards in an attempt to get away.

"We can carry on with treatment tomorrow Jim." McCoy promised, nudging closer, seemingly not wanting to scare the man.

"I don't want to," Jim whispered, "Please, no.."

He could see McCoy's expression twist in the dilemma he was in. But McCoy reached out to grab his arm anyway, Jim panicked and flailed wildly;

"Bones! Don't do this, please!" he shouted, flopping back flat on the table to get out of his reach. Realising Bones was practically above him now and no chance of escaping, Jim's fingers started involuntarily shaking.

"Bones!" Jim shrieked, staring down at his trembling form, "What's happening to my hands!?" he heard McCoy grumble something under his breath, then stepped back.

"Easy now, Jim," McCoy placed the hypo aside, "Look, no hypo, see?"

He watched terrified as Bones' took Jim's hands into his, holding them against his chest and muttering reassurances.

"It's alright, nothin' is gonna happen,"

"But, Earth, a-all those planets!"

"Are safe, Jim," Bones gently ran fingers across his forehead, willing him to calm down, "It's alright."

"No, its not! You--you freaking let him go!"

"I told Starfleet the second that bastard left. Everyone is _safe_ , Jim."

Jim took in this new information by sitting snivelling while allowing himself to be held by McCoy, looking pretty pathetic.

A few minutes passed before the fingers stopped running up and down his forehead.

"You okay?"

Jim grunted, starting to fall asleep again.

"Come on," McCoy began, lifting Jim up to a sitting position, let's get you back up to your room and we'll do another session tomorrow."

Jim gave a quiet "mmhm" while being maneuverer to the wheelchair, allowing his eyelids to fall shut.

"You did good today, kid." McCoy praised him, moving him down the corridors.

"Mmm...thank'" Jim mumbled, head lolling back in the chair.

He briefly remembered being hoisted onto his biobed by several nurses carrying him by the arms and legs, before letting himself go limp and embracing sleep.

...

McCoy carefully sunk the chair down to the level of Jim's bed, leaning over his head and arms on it to sleep.

Too worried to move away from Jim's sight, and being exhausted, he concluded to spend the night next to the blonde and hopefully wake up if Jim does.

If the medical staff thought it was strange or objected, they never said anything.

"Bones?"

The quiet unmistakable voice of Jim made him stir, sitting up with his now aching back almost immediately. Blue eyes were dulled with the pitch-black room, only a faint light radiating from the monitors allowed him to see that he was tensed.

"Hey darlin'" Bones whispered, not used to using that word away from his daughter and internally berating himself, "You doin' okay?"

The kid nodded, but the rigid features didn't change.

"You're all tensed up, what's wrong?" he kept his voice low, even though they were the only people in the room.

"Still can't move my fingers," Jim sounded disappointed in himself, the eyes now looked sad.

"It's gonna take longer than one session Jim, we'll do another when it's light, okay?"

Jim gave a quiet hum, still sounding dissatisfied, but what could Bones do?

"Go back to sleep Jim," McCoy whispered, "You need your rest."

"I haven't slept..." Jim admitted. At that moment, McCoy noticed the pale face and red eyes of his friend. Come to think of it, his cheeks were tinted a little _too_ red.

Slowly, McCoy stood up and flicked on an overhead light, revealing Jim's bloodshot eyes and splotchy face. His heart broke.

"Have you... been cryin'?" he wheeled closer as if making a medical observation, causing Jim to lean back in embarrassment. "Oh for... Jim, why didn't you tell me?"

The younger man simply rolled his head down, staring at his knees. The muscles in his face contorted, and it wasn't long before he saw the tears drip onto the blankets.

"Oh, god, come here." Bones wheeled closer, clasping a hand to the side of his face and gently wiping off tears with a thumb. The other hand run through his hair, trying to soothe him like a distressed child. At the embrace, Jim finally starting gasping and coughing, forcing frustrated and angry cries, letting out everything he’d bottled up.

"It's alright Jim..." Bones muttered, "None of that, come on Jim, you're better than this,"

His friend only responded by leaning into his shirt, Bones could feel the trembling and shuddering against his stomach.

So, he wrapped an arm around his waist, laying him back onto the bed, but the kid struggled and whined when he couldn't move.

"Deep breaths, come on Jim," Bones urged, showing him how to properly breathe, "Close your eyes and try to relax." he eyed the hypo practically sitting next to him, wondering if he should use it or not. "Breathe in for six seconds, out for six seconds... okay? Like this," he demonstrated his instructions, waiting for Jim to shakily follow.

Eventually, as the crying went on for another ten minutes, Bones decided to put him out his misery.

With Jim's eyes already shut, he easily grabbed the backup sedative on the nearby tray, using his other hand to distract him by rubbing in a circular motion against his neck. Then ever so gently, presses the hypo into Jim's neck, hushing him when he flinched and started to panic, but the strong drug dragged him under. "There you go kiddo... it's okay..."

And finally, the readings levelled out.

"Jesus," Bones sighed, watching the expression on Jim's face ease into calmness again. He checked the time, oh-one hundred hours.

So, he once again leaned over onto the biobed from the chair and fell asleep on it.

...

"Bones?!"

McCoy was startled waking up yet again by a terrified call of his name. Sitting up suddenly and making a full medical evaluation in three seconds, Jim was breathing rapidly, sweating profoundly.

"Jim?" he grabbed a tricorder and run it down Jim's form, but his question was answered when he started vomiting over himself. Jim's cheeks were flushed and it was obvious he'd been crying again.

"Ah shit," he muttered, standing up and grabbing his shoulders, "I'm gonna roll you on your side, Jim," he informed him. Being that Jim could hardly move, it was imperative to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit.

"Bones!--" Jim gasped, suddenly emptying the contents of his stomach again.

"It's alright," McCoy looked around wildly searching for a hypo, "You're gonna be okay."

Jim's retching continued, and McCoy swapped out a vial to an antiemetic, quickly gliding it into Jim's neck. He continued moaning, McCoy noticed the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He couldn't examine him while holding the kid on his side like this.

He grit his teeth and twisted his head to the door, "Nurse!"

Jim was sobbing, McCoy could feel him trembling under his fingers.

"You're okay, kid," he muttered, giving a hopefully reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.

A nurse marched through the door, and to McCoy's relief it was Chapel.

"Christine?" he asked almost in surprise, then straightened himself out, "Hold him here while I examine him, he can't hold his own body weight," he stepped to the side to allow Chapel to take over, then started swiping tools and vials from seemingly random locations, as if he's memorised the exact location of everything in the room.

"You're a bit under the weather, aren't you Jim?" Chapel teased kindly, taking a hand off his side to wipe away some of the bile trickling out the corner his mouth with a cloth.

"S'n understatement" Jim mumbled quietly, still trembling violently under her grip.

Bones returned with his beloved hypospray and circular scanner, hovering it in front of Jim's face and reading the results from a tricorder.

_It's just severe anxiety._

"Jim, how long have you been feeling nauseous for?" McCoy asked, not taking his eyes off the scanner.

"Uhhm... maybe n'hour" he sleepily replied, eyes fluttering shut.

"Doctor?" Chapel was alarmed at his sudden lack of consciousness.

"It's alright, just says that he's exhausted, let him sleep," he sighed, placing the device aside and gesturing for Chapel to roll him on his back again.

As she did, Bones read out the diagnosis, "He's severely anxious, caught the idiot crying three times now, I'd say he's struggling to cope," he then loaded the hypo with a sedative to keep him sleeping and injected it into his neck.

Chapel gazed at Jim's sleeping form. "What do you suggest?"

McCoy shrugged, and planted himself next to Jim. "Time?" his shoulders sagged, "There's nothing else we _can_ do."

Chapel too planted herself next to Jim. "I don't know about you but I feel like we're going around in circles. I've never seen him this vulnerable and upset before."

McCoy nodded in agreement, furrowed his eyebrows in thought, falling back into a scowl.

"He'd do better back up on the Enterprise,"

It was true, Jim couldn't recover anywhere better than his own home.

"But we haven't got the equipment to treat him for his partial paralysis."

Chapel folded her arms, "Can we ask for a requisition?"

McCoy stood up, started pacing while trying to think of a plan.

"He needs the support of his family, and right now that's up on the ship, not down here with strangers he doesn't know with unfamiliar surroundings," he declared, "He can hardly deal with being in sickbay. Getting stuck in here for three weeks would drive a man like Kirk insane!"

Chapel joined him in pacing, "I'll talk to the guys here, maybe you should get someone from the Enterprise to keep Jim company in the meantime?"

McCoy's features relaxed and he went searching for his PADD, "Sounds like a plan."

…

10 minutes later, McCoy was perched on Jim’s biobed, PADD in hand, looking over the message he had just sent:

> From: Chief Medical Officer McCoy  
>  To: First Officer Spock  
>  CC: Christine Chapel  
>  Subject: Jim  
>  Message: Spock,  
>  Christine Chapel and I have decided we’re gonna try to get Jim back up on the Enterprise. God knows how long that’s gonna take because we’re trying to get a requisition for medical equipment up here while Jim needs it. It could take another day considering how incompetent everyone in this dump is (except me and Chris) and Jim isn’t in the best state. Request that you come down and keep him company for as much as possible until we can get him up.
> 
> Regards,  
>  McCoy.

Waiting for news about the medical equipment being brought up to the Enterprise, McCoy waited for Spock’s arrival. And Jim waking up, but hoped he wouldn’t come around until Spock did.

....

Several days passed before the Enterprise got the all clear to bring up Medical's equipment for Jim: They had a month before having to bring it back. Spock visited Jim everyday, but had to put his vulcan-super-strength to good use to help lift the new equipment around sickbay.

On the morning of discharging Jim and bringing him back up to the ship, a nurse came into the room while he was sleeping, deciding to take one more blood test before he left.

She sat down quietly beside him, taking his arm and tapping it gently, trying to find a vein. She was internally glad that Jim couldn't feel a thing.

Carefully, the blood sampler was injected into Jim's vein.

He shot up tugged away from her, his eyes wide with both shock and betrayal.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Jim screamed, scrambling to get away with his unresponsive legs.

"You...you felt that?" The nurse asked, confused.

"What the hell did you do?!" Jim glared furiously down at his arms, suddenly realising he could feel them. A pool of red was seeping out his arm, although very little.

"I was... taking your blood, sir, you could feel that?" she reached out to grab his arm again, but Jim jerked back.

"Get away from me!" he whacked the device out of her hand, doing his best to shove her away.

He made an attempt to stand, but he instantly crumpled into a heap, sending the tray scattering everywhere, hypos, papers, vials and tools thrown across the room by no other than Jim.

"Sir... calm down, we'll get your doctor friend to do it, okay?"

"Don't you dare come near me!" Jim grabbed a scalpel with a shaky hand, it was slipping through his fingers, so he balled both his hands into fists around it; his body sprawled out across the floor.

"I need security assistance in D3, I repeat, need immediate-- ** _ah_**!" she was cut off by a PADD getting thrown at her head. She looked up to find Jim panting breathlessly on the ground, head slightly lifted to face her. Then, the young distressed man started dragging himself across the ground using his hands, throwing anything he could find to get away from his tormenter.

The nurse picked up the papers scattered across the floor, before Jim made her drop everything from being startled;

" ** _DON'T YOU COME NEAR ME WITH THAT THING!"_** Jim roared deeply, eyes fierce with untold anger.

"Jim... this is just paper--"

"Shut the fuck up!" And another tray of scalpels were thrown, and headed her way; one slicing her across the cheek.

At that moment, four security guards came stomping in, followed by two doctors.

"Nurse?" A doctor asked, perplexed by the state of the room. Jim was on his back, red faced and hyperventilating.

"He's lost it, sir, I was simply trying to take his blood and--"

" _Shuuuuut Uuuuup!!"_ The hoarse scream echoed across the room, Jim lunged himself into another tray, making himself and all the items crash onto the floor.

Immediately the security guards strode up, hauled him up from the floor, sending Jim into screaming fits- thrashing and attempting to bite them. The nurse got up and literally ran out of the room.

The accompanying doctor pointed at the biobed, "Get him strapped down and in restraints, give him 17 CC's of Myxogram and on five liters of Entagonide Oxide," he ordered, already scanning the room for the vials tossed across the floor.

Jim's screaming fits turned into wailing, as security dragged him onto the bed and had to literally pin him down.

"She was going to kill me!" He bellowed into a doctor's ear, who yanked his head to the side and administered the medication, "Get the fuck off me!"

Jim let out cries of frustration as they strapped him down, feeling even more out of control of his body than before. The feeling in his hands had only just started to come back from the intensive therapy that McCoy was giving him, and now he was trapped in himself again.

"Let me go! You fucking sick bastards!" he spat, gasping for air and struggling again, "Please! Let me go!" Jim yanked his head to the side and tried to escape the restraints but it was no good. "Please! You don't underst---g-guh..." he choked as the doctor forced a mask over his face, effectively pinning his head to the pillow.

"Just breathe this in, sir, you're going to be alright." Jim gagged some more at the smell of the strong gas, something he hadn't smelt before but it was horrible.

" _Ple-e-e-eeease!"_ Jim sobbed, "Let me go!" tears streamed down his cheeks in both fright and frustration.

A tall man in blue burst through the door, froze for a second at the sight, then began shouting at the doctors.

"What in the name of god are you doing?!" He quickly ran over, taking in Jim's form-- strapped down over the stomach, chest and legs with his ankles and wrists in restraints, a hand shoving a mask over his face with the young man screaming in tears begging to be let out.

Absolutely fuming with anger, Bones grasped a hold of a doctors’ shoulder to face him "Get out of my sight!" he bellowed, eyes dangerously embedded with fury, _" **Now**!"_

Everyone hesitantly but quickly let go and scuttled out the room, the mask falling onto it's side as Jim continued screeching in terror.

He darted to his side, undoing the straps and loading a sedative,

"It's alright darlin' I'm here, it's okay," he muttered, pulling the dangling mask from his face and kneeling down beside the biobed, wrapping comforting arms around the scared man. Jim shuddered and gasped through tears, his grip on McCoy deadly.

"I've got you," Bones hushed, "Calm down, it's alright, just relax," he pressed the hypo into his neck.

Jim's body curled into a ball, tears still streaming from his eyes.

"Thought something was wrong-- I knew it was," he grumbled, rubbing a hand up and down Jim's back, "Trying to set up the new equipment and your heart rate just sky-rockets to levels I've never seen before, I thought you were havin’ a heart attack."

Jim gagged, making retching noises although nothing came out. He heaved, trying to gather air to speak;  
“I’m sorry” he coughed, balling his fingers into a fist, trying to stop them from shaking, to no avail.

“Sorry about what, Jim? You did nothing wrong, they had the wrong impression about you, fucking monsters,”

Jim let himself go limp into McCoy’s arms, the CMO noticing the sudden body weight falling into his grip and grumbling under his breath.

"We're getting the fuck out of here," Bones mumbled, taking out his communicator, "This is McCoy, two to beam up straight to med bay."

....

"I'm making a complaint to Starfleet, that was fucking horrendous," McCoy ranted, pacing the room with Chapel and Spock watching, "They had him strapped down and restrained, you know that? He was screaming! Damn it man, what is wrong with them? Do they think he's insane or something? He was terrified of someone taking his blood and they made it worse!" Bones slapped his hands over his face and practically growled in anger. Spock, listening from the side, didn't look too impressed either.

"I'll be keeping their damn equipment, they'll have to chase the ship down and pry it out my cold dead hands!"

"Doctor, perhaps it is time for _you_ to calm down." Spock declared in a matter-of-fact tone. McCoy's face was seething with anger, but nonetheless stomped off out the room, grumbling what were no doubt a string of curses.

…

Jim awoke a couple of hours later, although to him it felt like weeks. Opening his eyes, he instantly recognised the quarantine area of sickbay and wanted to laugh in relief, only he didn’t have the energy.  
“Hey buddy, you okay?”  
Jim turned his head to the side, finding McCoy perched down on the end of his biobed.

“What happened?” he croaked out, not remembering a thing. Then his eyes lit up, and he lifted his arms. “Look Bones! I can feel my arms!”

Bones wheeled closer, taking Jim’s hands into his and smiling. “Atta’ Boy, you’re doing so well!” he stood up and started looking over the vitals overhead, “We’ll get you walking next,” he ultimately avoided Jim’s question.

“But what happened? Why am I here and not on Starfleet Medical?” The look on Bones’ face at the question made his stomach squirm with anxiety; did he really want to know?

“You lashed out and attacked a nurse, the people who came in thought you were insane, treated you as such, the bastards.”

Jim swallowed hard. He didn’t remember that. “Why did they think I was crazy? Haven’t they seen me scared before?”

Bones sighed, sitting back down next to Jim. “The nurse in the room made a building, or planet-wide announcement for help. A bunch of people who didn’t know any less came in the room, saw you throwing shit and screaming from the floor, and assumed the worst,” Bones’ eyes glanced down at the floor, “I should have been there, I’m sorry, Jim.”

Jim shifted closer to the edge of the bed lifting his weak arms and gently hitting Bones’ shoulder to get his attention.  
“S’not your fault Bones. You can’t be there all the time…” he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, “What now?”

At that, McCoy’s face brightened up just a tiny bit.  
“Well, you’ve already got your hands working, which is good. I’m looking over your scans right now and your legs are progressing much slower, aren’t they?”

Jim nodded sadly, “I can’t feel anything yet, they’re just… there.”

“We’ll keep doing the therapy sessions we’ve been doing, perhaps we need to be in there longer or we need to do it more than once a week,” he gave Jim a pat on the shoulder, “We’ll get you back on your feet in no time kiddo.”

Jim gave the first real smile Bones’ had seen since the accident started, making him feel unusually warm inside.  
“We’ll figure it all out. You n’ me, yeah? I’ll open the room to guests, they can see you as much as you like—unless you start showing signs of exhaustion then I’ll have to boot them out.”

Jim closed his eyes and sighed quietly in satisfaction. “Thanks Bones…”

Another firm squeeze of his shoulder, and then he heard Bones shifting away. “It’s my job, kid.” His footsteps echoed to the other side of the room, “Lights 5 percent,” Bones’ ordered, before the room dimmed and the doors hissed shut, leaving Jim to sleep the rest of the night off.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how this chapter got so long, but hope you enjoy. After this chapter, there's gonna be a change of pace, change of story!

Jim sat and waited impatiently, half-propped up on the biobed and waiting for his food like a hungry toddler. McCoy wanted to try to get him swallowing food as soon as possible, and Jim was more than happy to oblige.

After wiggling his arms around happily, McCoy eventually came back with a bowl for him.

"Here ya go," he mused, tugging over a portable table to Jim's bed so the surface went over his lap, placing the bowl on top. "Take it slowly now."

So, Jim, gazed into the contents of the bowl. What was it?

"It's grapefruit. I thought you'd like the tangy taste, works for me because it counts as fruit."

Jim dug into the yellow slices, lifted the fork up and with deep concentration, tried to aim it for his lips. His hands trembled violently and he dropped the utensil.

Jim groaned.

"Here, let me," McCoy stabbed the fruit with a fork and wrapped Jim's hand around his on the handle, "Now just move it slowly..." he guided his hand to Jim's mouth, and slowly he was able to do it. "There you go kid, well done."

Jim's face contorted at the sudden mass in taste buds that had just been given rocket fuel. McCoy chuckled, watching the muscles in Jim's neck attempt to swallow the food but he seemed to be struggling.

"Augh-cang-" Jim gurgled out his water-filled mouth. McCoy translated it to 'I can't'. So, he reached out to Jim's neck and massaged the muscles to force them to swallow.

Jim finished it and gagged. "Blah."

"You did good, do you want another?" McCoy gestured to the bowl. Jim shook his head, and winced, his lips parting with a groaning breath.

McCoy's face turned into a frown as he took in Jim's paling face. "You okay?"

Jim lethargically started looking around for something. "Down" he panted.

"What?" McCoy tried to make sense of him.

"Down. Down."

McCoy's eyes widened as he realised what he meant, standing up to force the bed down flat. He whipped out his scanner, hovering it over Jim's face, "You allergic to the citrus?"

Jim shook his head and pointed at his stomach.

"You feel nauseous?"

Nod nod.

McCoy searched for a hypo and loaded it, pressing it into Jim's neck. "Just gave you a dose of Alprazolam, should help with the nausea."

Another nod.

"You've not had solid food for over a month, only IV nutrition, so it's to be expected, alright?"

Jim wiggled under the blankets and blinked tiredly, "Mm'kay"

McCoy offered a rare smile and put a reassuring hand on Jim's shoulder before taking the food away.

"You want to try sessions for your legs again?" he asked while disposing the trash.

"Please" he mumbled, glaring down at his traitorous limbs.

"Alright. Let's give your body some time to digest the medication and we can go ahead, okay?"

Nod nod.

....

McCoy was wheel-chairing a very lethargic Jim down the corridor to the treatment room. It uses to be an empty room, but was set up last minute stuffed with medical equipment for Jim.

The fact that the young blonde didn't care about being seen so weak started to concern him, but blamed it on how tired he was.

The doors hissed open and McCoy brought him to the edge of the chair.

"Okay, up you go," he muttered, voice strained while hauling Jim off the wheelchair and onto the other one.

"You know the drill," he muttered, sitting on the stool behind him and gently gripping the shoulders in front of him, "wiggle back to the crook of the chair and lie your head against the headrest for me."

Jim obliged, blinking slowly, breathing more deeply, but managed to obey.

"That's good, now I'm laying the chair back," he warned, pressing some buttons on the side of the chair and watching the head of the chair lower down flat. Jim looked half asleep. He raised the height of the chair to his, then pulled over the machine across Jim's body.

"You with me?" he lightly tapped his cheek. Jim let out a quiet moan.

"Okay. If you get scared or start feeling pain then raise your right arm and I'll stop, can you do that?" he asked? "Raise your arm."

An arm sluggishly was lifted before flopping over his chest again.

"Good, now sit tight, sleep if you want to, or...something" he rambled, turning on the machine, and this time Jim didn't jolt when the clunk sounded. So, he intensely watched and directed the rewiring once again, every now and then running a soothing hand through Jim's hair if his heart rate spiked.

"Bones" Jim mumbled from below him.

"Uh huh," he replied, deep in concentration,

"I wanna ask something but swear you won't get mad"

McCoy glanced up from the microscope for a second to look at Jim, "Usually if you say that it means you've done something stupid... so what have you done?" he gazed back into the device again.

Jim gave a heavy sigh, "Did nothing... but can't sleep. Very tired. Dreamy"

Well that would explain why he was so withdrawn.

"When's the last time you slept?"

"Week"

McCoy gave a low hum as he tried to process what to do at the same time as doing the procedure.

"I'll put a sedative in your IV tonight. Try to take a nap this afternoon." he decided.

There was silence from Jim, but then, "Please no.." Jim spoke up with a little urgency, "No sedative."

"You know, in the summer back in Georgia it was always so damn hot it was impossible to sleep," he rambled on, reminiscing on times long ago, "Couldn't just go around druggin' everyone to the high heavens every night, so as a family we just kinda, put on the air con, had a glass of cold milk and went to bed all cozy,"

Jim smiled at his memories.

"Joanna was a lil problem to bring down. Girl gets woken up if your toenail touches the floor, damn it."

Jim chuckled, but McCoy shut his mouth at the reveal of his personal life back home. Though right now, Jim was probably the closest to family he had.

"Real proud of ya kid, you know that?"

A high hum emitted from Jim's throat, a smile formed on his lips. "You're getting soft, Bones..." Jim mumbled, "Careful, don't wanna ruin your reputation of being a dick"

McCoy scoffed, "I guess I pick n' choose who gets to have the good bedside manner," he chuckled, "But don't tell Spock, he gets the shitty treatment on purpose,"

Jim smirked.

"Green-blooded whining negligent stubborn son of a bitch..."

An arm was suddenly raised, almost hitting McCoy in the face, followed by a high squeak.

"Whoa," he turned off the machine, "You in pain? You want a minute?"

Jim moaned incoherently, head rolling around the chair. Frowning, McCoy tugged away the machine and pulled out a scanner, performing a full-body scan.

"Nothing's physically wrong but your heart rate's up. You want a break?"

A nod and a groan.

"That's okay," he pressed a button to lift the head of the chair upright again and swivelled away.

.....

Ten minutes had passed and Jim was still moaning incoherently. So McCoy grabbed his med kit, rolled over and clasped the side of Jim's face.

"Jim? Open your eyes for me," he ordered, placing the kit aside and noticing his pained expression. Jim's eyes ever-so-slightly cracked open.

"Where does it hurt?"

Jim's hand trembled, trying to move towards his chest.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a look alright? Does it hurt to breathe?" he asked, lowering the bed down flat again.

Jim shook his head. "Breathe okay"

McCoy pulled up Jim's gown, noticing his scar from the phaser wound surgery was slightly red. His scanner told him it wasn't infected, so he snapped on some gloves and started palpating around it.

"Any pain?"

Nod nod.

"Does it hurt more if I press down on it?"

Another nod.

"When did it start?"

Jim's eyes wandered a bit, "Just now"

McCoy gently pressed against the thin tips of the scar and hummed to himself. "It's inflamed, and it's only just started hurting, so I might have accidentally hit it with the machine," he observed, watching curiously as Jim's face went lax.

"Hey," he slapped lightly on his cheek, "Don't fall asleep."

Jim made a sound of disapproval at the back of his throat but opened his eyes.

"How'd you...mess up... Bones...." he took a deep breath before continuing, "You.... best....inhale.... doctor....steady.... inhale....hands...."

Bones rested the back of his hand against Jim's forehead.

"You're real tired, aren't you Jim." he said it as a statement to himself more than anything, loading a hypospray, "It's less about my hands and more about the machine. If it was freehand it wouldn't've happened, but I ain't got the technology." he jabbed the hypo into Jim's neck, winning a startled gasp. "Go to sleep, you look and sound like shit."

Jim's eyes looked up at him filled with betrayal. For a second there was a pang of guilt, but convinced himself it was for the best. Jim's eyes quickly drooped closed, his head lulling to the side, what with how tired he was.

McCoy began hauling Jim back onto the wheelchair again.

This is gonna be a damn well long few months.

.....

Jim woke up with a huge weight on his side, feeling groggy and confused. Opening his eyes, he noticed he was on his side, white sheets covering his torso.

And said the only thing he knew to say when he didn't know what was going on.

"Bones?"

A figure dressed in white stepped out in front of him; it took him a second to realise it was Bones.

"Hey kid, how you feelin'?"

Jim blinked tiredly and shut his eyes again.

"Confused. My stomach feels like there's knots in it."

"You're anxious?" Bones looked up to the overhead monitors again. "Oh, the sheets?" he smiled, "I've just finished examining your back for any injuries regarding the procedure we did earlier. It's all fine."

Jim blinked slowly, "But... thought it was m'scar"

"It was. I just wanted to make sure the pain you had wasn't from the machine aggravating your back injury. But it's all fine."

Jim nodded, sighing and dropping back off to sleep. He felt Bones' hands manoeuvre him onto his back again before losing consciousness.

....

"Damn it,"

_swipe._

"Damn it,"

_swipe._

"GOD DAMN--"

"Doctor."

McCoy's head shot up to find Spock standing in front of his desk, hands behind his back.

He sighed, "Spock?"

"I was going to enquire on when I could visit the Captain, but I can see you are otherwise occupied."

McCoy scowled, "You could've knocked," and stood up to lead the Vulcan to Jim's quarantined room. He didn't need to be quarantined, but he had insisted on being put somewhere away from prying eyes.

His quarters were out of the question, so quarantine it is.

"Right this way, Spock," he gestured at the door, noticing Jim was sleeping, "But he's asleep, so don't wake him up."

Spock cautiously walked in, taking in Jim's sleeping form.

Jim didn't at all look like James T Kirk, Captain of the Starship Enterprise. He looked like someone who had just been brought back from the brink of death and stamped on by twelve elephants, all while overcoming a drug overdose and hadn't slept in twelve weeks.

"I've gotta get back to figuring out why the hell therapy is doing damn all to his legs, call me if you need me," and with that, McCoy left the room alone to Spock and Jim.

...

Jim blinked tiredly and looked up gleefully when he saw Spock come in. Finally, other being other than Bones to communicate with. The Vulcan sat next to him.

"I apologise, Ca--Jim. I did not mean to wake you."

Jim smirked and shook his head sluggishly, "Wasn't even asleep," he murmured, wanting to sleep. His body wouldn't let him.

"Do you need assistance?"

A mind-meld? Could make him sleep?

Or a nerve pinch? He didn't care either way.

He nodded, and began to sit up before he was literally shoved back down again with a hand in his chest.

"There is no need." Spock began to raise his hands before Jim backed away,

"Wait," Jim stopped him quickly, Spock paused, "Later? Do it later, I just wanna talk for a while," he lied, not wanting to tell him that the feeling of control over himself being taken out of his hands frightened him.

"Very well," Spock sat back and gazed at him quizzically, "What is it you wish to speak of?"

Jim shrugged. 'How's the ship' was an overused question at this point.

"Just tell me what the crew have been doing,"

Spock thought for a while, and then tilted his head, "They have been performing admirably," he began, pausing to think some more, "Ensign Chekov is most concerned about you, Captain. He has been relieved of duty until further notice. Lieutenant Com--"

"What?" Jim wanted to slap him, "You took Chekov off duty?"

Spock bowed his head, "Affirmative."

"What the hell for? He must be heart broken! He lives for duty!"

Spock lowered his voice a bit, "His concern for you was stopping him from performing his duties. He was consistently forgetting instructions and has not been sleeping," then he added for good measure, "He requested that he be relieved."

Jim felt both relieved that Chekov had actually _asked_ to be taken off duty and angry with himself that it was because of him.

"So, it's my fault? What if the--" Jim froze when he realised Spock was gone. "Spock?" he whispered, confused. He would never just walk out of a room mid-conversation without saying anything.

He turned around on the bed to find Frank standing over him instead. The Frank that was much taller than him as a child, was taller than him still as an adult.

"It is your fault, Jimmy." Frank stepped closer, looking down angrily at Jim, "You know what happens when things are your fault."

Jim scooted himself off the bed and landed on the floor, "No! Wait!" he screeched, dragging himself across the floor using his arms. Frank kicked a boot hard up into his stomach, leaving Jim winded and faint, nauseous. Another boot stamped down on his hip, and Jim vomited onto the floor, screaming for him to stop. "I SWEAR I WON'T DO IT AGAIN! PLEASE!"

But no matter how loud he screamed, he could still hear Frank taunting him.

"You wanna go back to Tarsus, Jimmy?" A kick in the nose, a crack and a cry from his lips. It burned, and so did his eyes from the tears spilling out.

"I don't wanna go back there! I can't! Please! Please!" he sobbed and stared up at Frank from the tear soaked floor, his hands wet, "I'll do anything! Pl-ple-e-ease!!"

"Welcome back James. But your existence is causing a problem for our society."

Jim opened his eyes at the voice. Dead bodies were everywhere, Kodos was standing over one of them.

"Don't kill them! I-augh-gh..I--" he choked on his saliva, coughing at trying to catch his breath, before Frank's boot collided with his ribs.

"Speak up, Jimmy!"

In the distance, he heard a hiss-- it reminded him of something, something he should recognise, but that thought was disturbed when he saw a snake.

It slivered towards him, and Jim was in too much pain to move. He retched, more bile dribbling out the side if his mouth, and he whimpered as the snake slithered onto his neck. He tried to breathe, but it was getting harder. He let out a loud cry, a whimper, but the breaths turned to wheezes.

"I do not understand what I did to cause this behaviour," a voice echoed over him. In the distance, a girl cries for her mother as Kodos drove a blade into her.

"It's okay Spock, it's not your fault,"

Jim's choking got worse, and his started involuntarily trembling, his arms became so tense he couldn't move them.

"Leh-leh-leh-leh me g-g-go-go-go" he hyperventilated, eyes rolling around in their sockets. Suddenly he felt himself get hauled upright, something held him in the air, holding onto him tightly. Jim tried to fight-- he struggled, wriggling and writhing around, trying to get his arms to fight but they were too busy thrashing uncontrollably.

"Jim? Jim come on darlin' it's me,"

Why was Frank trying to get him to talk? To obey. He would not be dragged across the floor into the bathroom where he'd be whipped until he was black and blue.

"Jim, don't fight me on this. Come on, let go."

He wrenched his head side to side, tugging forwards as hard as possible with his stomach muscles but Frank was too strong. Frank wrapped an arm around Jim's waist, another round his chest, and Jim wailed as he could no longer struggle.

"Stooop! I'll be good! I'll _cough cough_ be--" he threw up over himself, tears flooded his face again as he realised Frank would punish him.

He hyperventilated harshly-- deep hoarse breaths forces in and out his lungs, quickly and unyielding. His body was then placed on a table-- likely so Frank could strap him down and beat him. But Jim didn't have the energy to fight anymore. He didn't try. He didn't fight when he was laid out across the table like a museum project, he didn't fight when his arms were moved around and pulled out like a starfish, and he didn't fight when a mask was pushed down onto his face, unmoving. He rocked his head from side to side to get it off, but the grip was strong-- his chin forced upright so he was staring at the ceiling.

As his eyelids grew heavy, Jim began to wonder if he should just let Frank do what he wanted with him. So that it would all be over.

But as Jim was about to fall asleep, a pinch to his neck forced a sharp inhale from his lips.

"Jim, I need you to breathe slowly." a demanding voice ordered him. "Slowly. Do you understand?"

A small whimper escaped from his lips, fogging up the mask. The hand holding it there was unmoving. Some mumbling were behind him, before there was an even stronger grip on the mask, and a warm hand wrapped around his own.

"It's okay Jim. Just keep breathing for me, kid, you're doing so well."

Jim blinked slowly, his blurry vision started to clear. A figure in blue stood over him, another in white was beside him, holding his hand.

"Deep breathes for me Jim, follow me, okay?" the voice was still authoritive, Jim was compelled to comply.

"In, with me," the voice inhaled deeply, and Jim followed trying to match his, shakily.

"And out, with me," he followed the voices' exhale, equally as shaky.

"Good, good."

Jim heard a quiet, "give it back to me," and the mask was loosened a little, but fingers were still rubbing circles in the palm of his hand.

"Bones?" Jim croaked out, sluggishly blinking to clear his vision.

"I'm right here, you're okay, kid."

Jim released a resigned moan and shut hid eyes.

"What happened, doctor?" he heard Spock say.

"Panic attack. Again." his tone turned grave, "I need to check if the parasite has regrown or something."

"I'm sorry..." Jim mumbled. What caused that reaction?

"Jim, I'm gonna do a full body scan right now, alright?" McCoy was pulling over the scanner, so he had no choice in the matter anyway. He shrugged. "Okay, here we go."

Spock was standing absently in the corner, looking like he was in his own little world.

Various beeps and whirring noises sounded as the scanner moved up and down his body, head to toe.

McCoy stared intensely at the results as it was fed back to him in real time.

"There's nothing I can find here, no parasite, you're all clear, Jim," he announced, offering a weak smile while pulling the scanner away.

Jim's eyes narrowed, "Then... what just happened?"

McCoy sat next to Jim on the biobed and gazed at him apologetically, "I know you're not gonna like this and I'm not strictly a psychologist but I'm diagnosing you with PTSD," he explained softly, "It's post traumatic stress disorder. I'm assuming after what you've been through, now you're hallucinating or getting flashbacks when you're afraid."

Jim's mouth opened and promptly shut, "But that means I'm not fit for duty anymore!"

McCoy put a hand on Jim's shoulder, but Jim pulled himself away. McCoy shook his head and sighed "I know."

Jim sat opened mouthed and breathing in shock.

"I'd suspected it a few panic attacks ago, which is why I didn't sedate you today," he gently rubbed a hand up and down Jim's back, "We need to get you through this without sedating you every time it happens, or you'll never learn to cope."

Jim was unmoving for a few seconds, but very slowly nodded.

"This isn't the end of your career, Jim. I promise you that once you're able to cope, I'll certify you fit for duty as Captain. Okay?"

Jim replied simply by leaning into McCoy's shoulder, who grabbed him and brought him into a hug-- a rare occurrence.

"Let's just focus on your recovery now," he said, "Do you want to run more treatment on your legs?"

Jim nodded his head against McCoy's shirt, wishing he didn't have to move away. It was so comfortable.

"Okay, well I've decided to set the machine at a higher level, to see if that makes any difference. I might try to adjust the position of your legs in case the beams need to hit a certain area to have an effect," he explained carefully, "Because as you've noticed, it's been doing nothing."

Jim slowly sat back up again, rubbing tired eyes, "I wanna eat first."

McCoy offered a smile and stood up to retrieve something he isn't likely to throw back up, "You wanna work on your hands huh? Yeah, eating is a good place to start," he sifted through a couple of packets of soft food, "Probably an idea to focus on not shoving a spoonful of soup in your eye."

When he turned back around, Jim was scowling miserably at him.

"It's not funny. I can't move my hands properly. It's not a joke." he mumbled, eyes gazing to the ground. Sighing, McCoy poured the soup in a bowl and handed it to Chapel to heat up.

"Sorry kid. Just tryin' to lighten the mood." he noticed Jim needed to sit up to eat, so promptly stepped to the foot of the bed and pressed some buttons that slowly moved the bed upright.

Chapel returned with a nice steaming bowl of soup, "Here doctor," she smiled, McCoy returning the gesture and tugging the portable table across Jim's bed, placing the bowl onto it.

Jim picked up the spoon and dipped it into the liquid, stirring it in circles.

"You don't like it?" McCoy asked, "You always liked soup, Jim."

"I don't wanna eat anymore..." Jim mumbled, dropping the spoon into the bowl with a clunk and staring absently at the floor. McCoy approached him, lightly pressed the back of his hand against Jim's forehead. Then pressed two fingers against his neck.

"Your heart rate's up. You okay?"

A silent sluggish nod.

McCoy took Jim's hand, waiting until he caught up with the touch and wrapped it around the spoon handle, keeping his grip on Jim's hand.

"You can do this bit, dip it in the bowl.."

Jim obliged.

"Now come on, carefully," he helped him raised his hand, but Jim stared at his trembling fingers miserably. The grip tightened, "Come on Jim, you can do it," he encouraged, but the utensil didn't move, droplets of soup falling off.

McCoy exhaled through his nose and tugged it towards his lips before everything fell off, "Open, Jim," he ushered, noticing the fingers were shaking more.

"I can't," came the strained reply, voice cracking at the last word. The spoon was dropped and Jim sat back, starting to cry again.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, McCoy squeezed Jim's hands and held them against his chest.

"I can't even pick up a spoon," Jim choked, but then he said the words that always made his blood run cold, "I wish I had just died!"

Standing and staring at Jim for a while, he ventured off, leaving the table where it was and grabbing a vial from the tray, loading it into a hypo.

"I'm just wasting Starfleet resources" Jim mumbled, voice shaky with unshed tears. McCoy bit his lip.

"Gonna give you some medication for your PTSD, should control your symptoms," he explained, gently pressing the hypo against Jim's neck, "If you feel worse or nothing happens in ten minutes, tell me."

Jim sniffed, but nodded. McCoy sat down on a stool in front of him, grabbing the bowl and wheeling closer.

"You want an IV or you want me to feed you like a baby?"

Jim's face contorted, then welled up with tears, "I've had it with you!" he shrieked, arms wailing everywhere to escape the clutches of the table and the bed.

"Jim, I'm just---"

"You keep taking the piss out of me like this is all a joke to you! Do you have any idea-- no, you don't know what it's like because you've never had to go through it!"

McCoy frowned and nabbed his hypo, loading it with a sedative and stepping towards him. Jim jerked back,

"Don't you fucking dare, McCoy." he spat with venom.

"Using my name, huh," he turned Jim's head to the side and jabbed him in the neck. "I'll see you in the treatment room when you wake up."

Jim's face looked like it had a million things to say with a million different emotions, but the drug dragged him under before any of that could happen. McCoy sighed, detaching the table, lowering the bed and setting off to the treatment room to deal with Jim's legs.

...

McCoy was readjusting the machine to a higher level when Jim started groaning. He immediately rolled his stool in front of Jim, peering over him.

"Hey. How you feelin’?"

Jim swallowed hard. "I'm..." he stuttered, "I'm sorry..."

His face contorted and he slapped his hands over his face, "Why do I k-keep cryi-i-ing!" he sobbed, tears soaking his hands again. McCoy ran a hand through the blonde's hair. "Ah…It's to be expected," he mumbled, "Don't worry about it."

Jim let out a quiet groan and opened his eyes. The once vibrant and bold blue eyes were now dull and tired.

"M'cold," Jim mumbled, shifting around the table a bit. McCoy wordlessly stood up, went over to the kids’ box again, and dragged over some blankets. Jim's arms twitched at the sight of warmth, and McCoy draped the blanket over his body, tucking it around Jim's shoulders. The young man snuggled into it and shut his eyes again.

Satisfied, McCoy gave a reassuring squeeze to Jim's hand and placed the limb back down onto the blankets, then focused on setting up the machine.

"You might feel a little more pressure than usual, like I said it's on a higher setting."

A quiet 'M'kay' escaped from Jim's lips, before McCoy started up the machine, the familiar whirring making Jim sleepy.

Throughout the whole procedure, Jim grew more and more distressed, shifting turned into banging his fist onto the table, despite McCoy's warnings. Groans turned into whimpers, whimpers turned into tears, and eventually he was having a full-blown anxiety attack on the table.

Wordlessly, McCoy pulled the machine aside, taking a needle, holding his shaking wrist steady and carefully slipping it into Jim's vein,

"S'alright kid, this is gonna help ya," he muttered, hooking it up to an IV bag that quickly got him drifting off to sleep. Hopefully the solution would keep him asleep longer than hypos did.

He pulled the machine back and continued his work-- Now that Jim was asleep, he could do it at a much higher intensity and for a lot longer.

Seconds dragged on for minutes, and the minutes dragged on for hours.

....

Spock waited in Jim's room for his return. He has been waiting for approximately six-point-four-nine hours now, since McCoy had taken him away, and was beginning to get worried.

Or, logically concerned for the safety of the Captain.

Yes, that was better.

He decided that upon his return, Jim shall receive nutrition.

 _Humans generally do not appreciate Vulcan cuisine_ , he thought, _I wonder what sustenance the doctor usually brings him?_

So, Spock stood up from the seat he had been perched on for the past six hours and headed towards the stashes of packets that McCoy used to rip open and pour into a bowl.

They did not seem very appetising to the Vulcan.

 _Fresh grapefruit_ , he read from one _, Is it really fresh if it is sealed in a container?_

He sifted through more, _Mincemeat and chicken, Soup, Green Salad, Pepper and Potatoes._

Spock stood intrigued at the packets.

Then, the door hissed open, followed by McCoy wheeling Jim in the room on a hover bed-- Jim's face was pale and had obvious lines of pain, McCoy was fussing over him and getting to the biobed as fast as he could.

"Spock? What you doin' here?" Then McCoy gestured to Jim, "Help me get him on the bed, will ya?"

Spock nodded and quickly stepped over, hauling Jim up with no struggle at all and gently resting him on the propped-up bed. McCoy immediately shoved it down flat the second Jim was on it.

"What has happened, doctor? I was under the impression that you were performing the same procedure you had been doing for several weeks? You have been gone for six-point-five--"

"Shut up a second Spock," McCoy snapped, grabbing a couple of vials, checking their labels and promptly clicking them into the hypo and jamming it into Jim's neck. The pain creases slowly eased out, his jaw became untense and lax again.

"Alright," he announced, clearly proud of his work, "I increased the intensity of the beam and worked for five more hours than usual. There's signs of reaction, thank god, in Jim's legs, but he's in a lot of pain because of it. Understand?"

Spock gave a curt nod, approaching Jim's side. "Will he be well soon?"

"Yeah, he's just in pain, but it's manageable." McCoy plonked down next to Jim onto a stool, wheeling over to grab some latex gloves.

"What are you doing, doctor?" Spock inquired. McCoy looked up and scowled, shaking his head and snapping the gloves on, "Must you always get in the way, Spock?"

Spock moved closer to the man, "I am simply ensuring of the Captain's well being."

McCoy scoffed, "Uh-huh, I can see that. I need to examine his legs, that's all I'm doing. Now get outta my way," he grumbled, gripping Jim's leg and hovering a scanner over him.

Several minutes passed before Spock spoke up again, "Why is the Captain not responding?"

McCoy sighed, leaning back for a second, "Jim is asleep, Spock. That's why I'm doing this now."

Then he rolled to the head of Jim's bed, rubber fingers pressing against Jim's forehead, "Jim? Open your eyes for a sec kid, I need your attention."

There was a quiet moan and small peeps of his eyes; he looked exhausted.

"I need you to tell me what you feel in your legs?" McCoy asked, gesturing to the several devices clamped around his legs and making weird noises.

Jim hummed for a second, "They..." a long inhale, "achey..." his face scrunched up, "They hurt.."

McCoy grabbed the hypo again, "I know, but it's a good sign. Are you able to move your left one?"

Jim lethargically shook his head, "No, M'sleep now" he mumbled, eyes falling shut again.

"No! No Jim, hold on, just one more thing, I promise," McCoy was tapping his cheek.

"Huuuh?"

"I need you to roll on your side. Can you do that? I need to examine your back."

Jim grunted, but managed to shift his body weight enough to turn slightly, Spock grabbed him and aided him onto his side.

"That's good, you can sleep now," McCoy praised, noticing a nasty rash on his back. Jim instantly relaxed and went back to sleep.

For McCoy, there was a blissful three minutes before,

"What is the red mark on the Captain's back?"

He grit his teeth and tightened his hold on the scanner, "Damn it Spock! Do you have a question for everything?"

"I am merely attempting to ensure--"

"Ensure the Captain's well-being, I know. But I'm a doctor, I'm trying to help him, so you're gonna have to shut up or leave!"

Spock slammed his mouth shut and held back the other twenty impending questions.

"It's an impact rash from the high intensity beam, it'll go on its own," he explained. Then he noticed the rashes on the back of Jim's legs, raw and definitely looked like scratch marks.

"Jim?" McCoy tried to grab his attention.

"Mmmrghh.."

"Have you been scratching your legs?"

"Uh huuuh"

McCoy tried to twist a leg to the side but couldn't get a good look.

"I'm gonna need to take a look at all the rashes down his back and on the back of his legs, help me roll him on his stomach."

Spock was immediately by his side, and as Jim was already on his side, it was easier to push him down the rest of the way. The second that Jim's extremely slow brain caught up with the fact he was laying on his stomach, he squeaked and started thrashing around to get on his side again,

"No--no, Jim--Jim! Hold still. Jim--damn it!" McCoy tried to manhandle him down but a scared animal was always a dangerous one. Jim yanked his arms around and forced himself onto his side. Spock was staring--observing for several moments before he'd decided that the logical decision was for Jim to be on his stomach so that McCoy could assess his condition. So, he grabbed Jim's shoulder, and his waist, and shoved him down onto his stomach, eliciting wails from the other man as he held him down.

"Do what you need to do with haste, doctor," Spock warned, unsure of how long he could keep the writhing man down.

"Thanks," McCoy mumbled, quickly grabbing his scanner, then rolled the stool to the foot of the bed, running the instruments over the angry rashes. Jim shouted incoherently into the distance. Then McCoy raised an eyebrow.

"Ah,"

Spock looked up, "You have found something?"

"Yeah, can you hold him here while I get Christine?"

A curt nod let McCoy know he was free to get up and leave to find Chapel. Quickly.

Spock slowly looked down at Jim when he realised the trembling was turning more violent.

"Jim." Spock began, "Are you well?"

Jim, still forced stomach-side onto the biobed only made small noises. But the trembling continued.

"Leh-m'-go" was muttered from the man.

"I cannot do that, Captain"

Jim groaned and shut his eyes. At that moment, McCoy came storming back in with Chapel by his side. She immediately sat down where McCoy just sat and started scanning him for herself.

"Doctor," Spock addressed McCoy, "Jim appears to be... trembling."

McCoy gave a quiet "hmm" and stepped to the front of the bed, watching Jim and confirming Spock's words.

"His heart and respiratory rate has skyrocketed. Won't be surprised if alarms start going off." he reached for the hypo but Jim reached out and, just about, swatted his arm.

"Don't hypo me" he breathed, twisting his head to look at him. McCoy fiddled with the hypo in hand but didn't do anything.

"There are no traces of toxins or chemicals that could cause a reaction Jim needed to itch," Chapel observed, frowning deeply, "Jim, have you been purposefully scratching your legs to injure yourself? Maybe from frustration?"

Jim dipped his head into the pillow in shame. "M'sorry…"

Sighing, McCoy nodded to Chapel who started bringing out disinfectant.

"Can I go on my side now?"

McCoy shook his head, grabbing his PADD and started writing notes, "Sorry Jim, Chapel has to disinfect your legs, you--"

" ** _I DON'T WANNA BE ON MY STOMACH!"_** he all but screamed, fidgeting and squirming. McCoy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, which Jim pushed away.

McCoy scowled, "And why not?"

There was only silence from Jim, followed by sniffs, and the trembling was starting again.

"Tell me, Jim, or I can't help you." McCoy used his most authoritive voice to say-- he was starting to lose his temper.

"I don't wanna be on my stomach..."

Chapel began spraying disinfectant, causing Jim to flinch and struggle under the firm hands holding him down.

" _LET ME OUT_!" he screamed, burning his throat, " ** _LET ME GO!"_**

"Jim," McCoy was about to reassure him when Jim twisted onto his side, making Chapel jump back-- and he was about to hypo the blonde before two hands walloped him on the cheek, followed by scared screaming.

"Jim! For god sakes sit still!" McCoy roared from above him, "If you move one more muscle while Chapel is treating you then I'll personally shove your legs under a beam of three thousand fucking degrees! That'll give you something to scream about!"

Jim's mouth slammed shut, quietly shuddering and trembling while he was forced to obey. Spock continued to sit in front of the bed, wordlessly observing. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around Spock's hand, granting a reaction, if only for a second. It was likely touch telepathy gave Spock the same fear Jim had.

He snivelled, as Spock approached him from the head of the bed, splaying fingers on his temples, and Jim knew what he was doing, but didn't care. The fingers moved to their designated locations, applying a little pressure, and Jim immediately sunk out of reality itself.

The world was black, with just Spock standing next to him. What the hell?

"What did you do?" he nervously asked, trying to locate anything other than blackness.

"We are in a mind-meld," came the reply from next to him, "I will release it when the doctor has finished disinfecting your leg."

Jim blinked tiredly, kneeling down to sit on the floor. "I can't feel anything..."

Spock remained standing, looking down at him, "That is the entire point, Jim."

Jim nodded, laying back and throwing arms over his eyes. "I'll just lie here then,"

"Indeed, you will."

There was a few more minutes of silence between the men, before Spock decided to speak up.

"May I ask a personal inquiry?"

Jim grunted from the floor. Spock seemed to bow his head in thought for a while,

"Why is it that you do not wish to be on your stomach?" he questioned, moving arms behind his back, fingers entwined within one another, "You were in particular distress and wished to change position."

Jim chuckled under his breath, following that with a long sigh. "We're in a mind meld, can't you tell?"

Spock released his arms and delicately knelt beside Jim, "You have somehow managed to sustain barriers. I do not want to penetrate that which you do not wish for me to see."

Jim took a deep breath, sitting up again and shifting closer to the Vulcan, who watched him but didn't move.

"When Frank was taking care of me..."

Jim paused and stopped himself.

_Taking care of me._

_Yeah right._

"Continue."

Jim looked up to Spock urging him, biting his lip and shaking his head.

"He uh... sometimes if I did something he didn't like... he umm..." Jim stopped to gather his thoughts, feeling himself breathe faster, "Uhm..." he noticed he was going to spiral into another panic attack.

Jim jumped as a hand suddenly fell onto his shoulder, but strange feelings of calm washed over him.

"Okay... uh... sometimes if I did something he didn't like, he'd... um... well... ah..."

"You do not have to tell me if it causes this much distress."

Jim shook his head, "No, no, I want to say it, I must.." he remembered the wooden workshop table outside. Frank never used it, not for working on anyway. "Frank had a table outside, and before I was older and could fight back, he'd have me..." he took a deep breath, "Ahh... pinned to the table on my stomach, yeah," another deep breath, "To... stop me from running away, he'd use these belts to strap me down, then would stand there and whip my body for ages... well uh..." Jim swallowed, "It was minutes, but it felt like hours."

Spock's face showed a hint of emotion, but must have realised as it changed back.

"I was only a kid, Spock... just a kid. He'd strapped me down to this table and whipped the shit out of me until I stopped crying-- Spock, it was wooden, I had blisters in my hands that wouldn't go away for weeks, I..."

"I appreciate that you have told me this, Jim," the hand on his shoulder returned, bringing him more soothing feelings, "From this information, I gather that when the doctor has you on your stomach, you feel vulnerable and the need to escape, in fear that you will be injured."

There was a very faint nod from Jim, the memories now running through his head vividly. He felt stupid, but he _just couldn’t_ lay on his stomach without feeling frightened.

"With your permission, I will inform the doctor of your situation and propose another solution that will be better for you."

Jim managed to squeak an "okay" before falling silent and rigid, knees up to his chin on the floor. After a few seconds, the blackness turned into nothingness; and Jim was asleep.

...

"I have received new information vital to the Captain's recovery."

"Uh huh," McCoy muttered without looking up from his work, which was staring at the PADD and doing nothing, "And what might that be?"

Spock cleared his throat. A very human action.

"Jim was abused in his youth, in the same position that you now have him restrained in."

At that, McCoy blinked slowly and looked up, first to Jim, then to Spock,

"What?"

"He is under the impression that you intend to cause harm, regardless of how illogical that seems."

McCoy huffed and typically tossed his PADD away, quickly standing up and shaking his head to Chapel, who looked equally as confused.

"Okay," he grunted, lifting Jim onto his side before Spock joined in, "Back onto your side you go," his voice strained with the movement, and without even being awake, Jim's rapid heart rate slowed to a more acceptable level. McCoy stood and observed his vitals for a few more seconds before nodding to Chapel.

"It's alright, doctor, I've finished with his legs," she reassured him, packing the stuff away.

"Good, 'cos I've got no idea how you'd be able to do it from his side," he hovered a scanner over Jim's body, and satisfied with the results, tucked it away. "Thanks Spock," he muttered, strolling to the back of the room to get some food for when Jim woke up.

Within the time that Chapel left for main sickbay and Spock made an excuse to leave for the bridge, there was another bowl of food ready for Jim to attempt to keep down.

Whether he'd be up to eating was another story.

...

"Jim, you haven't eaten at all for two days." He was right, of course. Jim was once again refusing to eat. "I've been real patient with you, now eat this before I put an IV in. We don't want that, do we?"

Jim cringed into himself at being talked to like a child. It was true, he hadn't eaten, not even yesterday, as that was when he'd refused after McCoy offered to feed him like a baby.

"I can't eat, I'll throw it back up!" he whined, head rolling around the pillow. This earned another frustrated sigh from McCoy and the portable table being shoved over his bed anyway.

He glared at the bowl on top of it. It looked like red and green mush. It was like Bones had personally collected his vomit and offered it to him in a bowl.

"What the hell's this?" he stared at the offending object.

"Rhubarb. Thought it'd make a change from grapefruit," a spoon was dug into his fingers, "Eat it."

Scowling, Jim swished the contents of the bowl around in circles, before finally managing to dip it onto the spoon. He brought it up, grunting as his hands started trembling again.

"I can't do this!" he yelled, dropping it onto the bowl with a clang. "I'll never be able to feed myself again. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!"

"Now listen here, Jim," his head was suddenly clasped between the hands of Bones, "You don't learn to walk after standing up once, and you can't talk fluently after saying one word," he eyed the bowl of dread, "You've gotta teach yourself motor skills again. What happened to no-win scenarios?"

Jim fell silent at this. What _had_ happened to no-win scenarios?

"I'm not that guy anymore." he muttered, the entirety of him wanting to scream. That guy was just hidden away.

"Like hell you're not. Come on, Jim, just try?"

Jim gripped the spoon again, lifting it to his lips, taking rapid short breaths as he tried to complete his mission. A warm hand grasped around his, steering the spoon to his mouth. This time, Jim could swallow the food without assistance.

"See? Was that so hard?"

Any other day, Jim would scowl and come up with a witty remark. Now, he just gazed at the bowl that was still full, wishing it wasn't rocket science to perform such a simple task like eating.

"Here." Jim was startled out of his thoughts with a hand reaching out in front of him, three pills in them.

"What's this?" he took and eyed them carefully. Maybe they were secretly sedatives in disguise.

"Medication for your PTSD. Found something you could take that you weren't allergic to," Bones explained.

_Or, they were sedatives._

"And no, they're not sedatives."

_Yeah right._

Jim whipped them from his hand and practically hurled them down his throat.

"Now get some sleep, I'm gonna be going to my quarters tonight, if that's alright with you?"

A very slight nod.

"Good. If you need me," he gestured to the wall behind Jim, "Button's there."

Nod nod.

"G'night kid." he smiled, and called the lights down, "Lights ten percent."

....

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

"Ugh..." McCoy reached out to slam down on the alarm clock. Shit, he felt like he'd been asleep for ten minutes.

_Bang._

...But the noise continued.

What the hell?

He cracked open his eyes and dragged himself into an upright position. There was a red light irritatingly flashing at the other side of the room.

God, he couldn't be bothered to walk all the way over there.

"Computer, turn off... that red flashing light, at uh..." he tried to think of how to describe it, "In my quarters...?"

"Cannot turn off emergency call alarm from this location."

Oh.

McCoy jumped out of bed and flung on a white medical suit, "Is the source from medical isolation room B?"

"Affirmative."

"Shit," that meant Jim was in trouble. He grabbed his med kit and darted out the room, headed for the nearest turbo lift.

...

When he arrived, several other doctors were there before him, crowding around Jim's bed. The button on the wall he gestured to earlier was flashing red, which meant Jim had pressed it.

"What's happened?" McCoy pushed past the crowds, finding Jim practically covered with his own vomit and choking.

"He set off the alarm, he's been vomiting for five minutes now," a nurse beside him called out. Jim's throat started producing gurgling noises.

"Shit, get him on his side," everyone grabbed a limb and on three, hauled Jim over onto his left side, causing more retching from the man, coughing and spluttering over McCoy's sleeve.

"B'nes" Jim whimpered from the biobed, eyes squeezed shut.

"I've got you kid, it's okay," McCoy looked up at the vitals, "He's not taking in enough oxygen, is he still choking?"

Jim's eyes slightly parted, looking hollow as another round of bile was weakly coughed up.

"It's blocking his airway," the same nurse shouted, pressing a hypo to Jim's neck.

"Get me a suction, quickly!" he turned around, donning latex gloves.

Jim moaned from underneath him, his body was completely limp.

"Dammit Jim…" McCoy muttered, receiving the suction and lifting his chin, another doctor coming around to watch. He easily managed to shove the suction inside his half-open mouth, running a comforting hand through his hair.

"Five mg of prochlorperzine," he ordered, taking the suction out, leaving Jim coughing for air. He grabbed an oxygen mask and held it to his face, waiting for the stats to rise again. "What the hell was that about?"

A nurse spoke up, "Allergic reaction?"

"Yeah, but to what? He's not taken anything apart from the PTSD medications, and I checked those myself."

The nurse shrugged and shuffled away.

"Bones?" Jim squeaked from below him. McCoy smiled and sat on the biobed, switching hands holding the oxygen mask.

"Hey buddy. Think you can hold this yourself?"

Jim nodded and sluggishly slapped a hand onto the mask, closing his eyes and sighing.

"Didn't want.... to be alone..." then he chuckled lightly, "Sounds...stupid.."

"It's not stupid, I get ya."

Jim snivelled and gripped McCoy's arm, "Don't go"

Thinning his lips into a line, McCoy nodded and placed his hand into Jim's, effectively loosening his grip.

"Dizzy"

"You're dizzy?"

"Uh-huh"

"Hold on," he brought out his med kit and fetched the hypo, loading it with another mg of prochlorperzine. Jim turned his head to the side, surprising the doctor, but pressed the hypo gently to his neck. "Give that a few minutes. Try to get some sleep."

"Don't leave" Jim whined, his eyes looked terrified, but McCoy had no idea why.

"I'm not gonna leave, I'm gonna stay right here. But you sleep now, alright? Or do you need a sedative?"

Jim moaned. "No sedative... I am...sleep…"

McCoy watched as Jim's breathing slowed to a steady pace, a sure sign that he was falling back to sleep.

_Damn kid._

…..

"Wakey Wakey, dumbass," a trivial voice echoed through Jim's brain.

"Ugghh..."

"Rise and shine, I have a visitor for you."

Jim moaned some more, "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get up. Here, Scotty."

Jim blinked open his eyes at that. Scotty had come to see him?

A red shirted figure walked into Jim's blurry line of vision, "Cap'n"

Jim attempted to smile, "Scotty."

"Aye, look at this, I've just installed this great new food synthesiser, it produces more chemicals that we can use to actually taste real food. Real. Food. You know what this means? Sandwiches. I get to eat sandwiches! Can ye believe that?"

Jim smirked at the enthusiastic engineer, "Sounds great, Scotty" he slurred, still half asleep.

"Aye, an' the good doctor said you could come down to mess hall and try it out!"

Jim eyes almost fell out their eye sockets, "He _allowed_ me to--"

"Yeah, and I'm coming with you of course," McCoy interupted him, "Can't have you dying without me to watch you."

Jim let out a soft chuckle, using his hands to help pull him into an upright position.

"Sit down here, can you walk?" He stopped himself, "Oh, yeah, 'course you can't, you gotta be difficult," he held out an arm, "Here, hold onto my arm and I'll guide you down."

Jim latched onto McCoy's arm, sliding from the biobed to the wheelchair.

Time for the first venture out of sickbay in weeks!

...

"Look at how many settings for sandwiches I got!" Scotty pointed at the replicator.

Jim squinted to look at the numbers, "Twenty-three kinds of sandwiches," he blinked slowly, beginning to fall back to sleep. A cool hand on his neck jolted him awake again. "Bones..."

"Jim, let the man show you his latest invention, then you can sleep." McCoy muttered into his ear. Scotty overheard, furrowing eyebrows, "Cap'n, if you're tired--"

"No, no Scotty it's fine...ah...god..." Jim tried desperately to stay awake, but it was like Bones had drugged him with sedatives.

"You okay?" McCoy called from behind him. Jim hummed in a way that said yeah, and focused on the replicator in the distance. He opened his mouth to speak, words taking a while to form, "Can I try it?"

Scotty looked up to McCoy, who nodded, "Aye, just don't break the thing, it's brand new,"

Jim wheeled closer and wracked his brain on how to use a replicator, "Wouldn't dream of it,"

As he reached out to press a singular button, his arm dropped down to his lap, sagging in the chair. "Bones..."

Not even a second later, the familiar sound of scanning devices flooded his ears. "Bones I wanna... sleep..." the scanning stopped, replaced by a small sigh.

"You're lethargic as hell, I think some food will help. Try something and you can go back to bed."

Jim grunted, and looked to Scotty, "Make the... uh..."

Jim couldn't finish his sentence as his entire body went slack, head lulling to the side, eyes shut. Noticing the still body, McCoy stepped to the front of him, yanking open an eyelid and shining a pen light in his eye.

"Well, he's passed out alright," McCoy observed, tucking the pen light away and turning to Scotty, who looked slightly upset.

"Did I bore him to sleep, doctor?"

McCoy chuckled, shaking his head, "No, I think he was in a deep sleep when I woke him, clearly his body wants to keep at it," he began wheeling his way to the door, in quest for the turbo lift, "I'm taking him back up, have something sent to him will you?"

Scotty smiled at that, "Aye, doctor."

McCoy didn't ignore the layer of sweat starting on Jim's forehead, but he'd look into that back in the comfort of sickbay.

...

"Bones!"

McCoy groaned at the ecstatic voice, belonging to Jim. "Need to sleep a bit longer, Jim..."

"Bones! Look! Quickly!"

Frowning, assuming something awful had happened, Bones looked up, lifting his head from the side of biobed Jim was in. His head had been resting there all night. Now he was exhausted. And his back hurt.

"What is it--oh!" He let out a surprised chuckle before he could stop himself; Jim was feeding himself on his own.

He smiled, "Well done kiddo, m' real proud," he wished he could pay more attention to the significant moment, but was much too tired to stay awake.

He plonked his head back onto the bed, concentrating on his aching back before;

"You don't care?"

Sighing, McCoy shoved himself upright.

"'Course I care, kid. I'm just real tired," he scooted closer to the young captain, turning to snatch up a scanner on a nearby tray and twisting back, "Show me your arms?"

Jim obliged, seemingly very understandably pleased with himself; he was beaming like a kid who lost a tooth.

"All fine, progressing nicely, a lot of damage has been healed," he read from the promising results, "I need to see your spinal cord readings,"

Jim's face dropped, eyes darkening, "I'm not turning onto my stomach..." he muttered defensively.

"It's just for a second, Jim," McCoy knew the idiot would kick up a fuss, but tried anyway.

"Can't you read it from my side?"

True, he could, but it wasn't easy to read with the position his back would be in. Plus, he needed the muscles relaxed.

He sighed. "Jim, just get on your damn stomach, will you?"

Jim's scowl resembled that of a child, " _No_."

Fed up, McCoy stepped to the edge of the bed, gripped his waist and started hauling him onto his side, ignoring the flailing arms that tried to stop him.

"Bones!" Jim screeched, muffled from whipping his head around.

"If you fight me again I'm gonna hypo your backside into next week."

Jim's fighting stopped.

_That always worked._

"Good," he nodded mockingly, "And now;" Bones pushed him from his side and onto his stomach. Jim remained pouting while Bones stood hovering a scanner over his back.

After a couple of moments, he stepped back and pat him on the shoulder.

"All done. How are your legs doing Jim?"

Jim glanced down at them, and a few seconds passed before he looked back up and shook his head. "I can feel them but they won't move...does that even make sense?"

"Course. We'll do a therapy session in a minute, but first you need to eat more--the hell's this?" he pointed at the bowl that once held food on Jim's table. A very tiny bowl.

"I wasn't hungry..."

"So, you ate a meal the size of a kid's yogurt. Good going," he rolled his eyes and pulled out more packets of food, "Pick one."

Jim made a low growling noise at the back of his throat and yanked out the first packet he saw.

"I'm gonna throw it up," Jim whined as Bones took it from him.

"Like hell you are. If you can't eat it, you'll get an IV. Either way, you're getting your nutrients."

Jim groaned as McCoy poured the food that tasted like plastic into the bowl. "And you've just shown me you can eat on your own, so no excuses,"

Jim frowned at McCoy's intimidating raised eyebrow and grabbed the spoon, staring at his lingering doom-in-a-bowl.

_Bet he wishes he never showed off now._

....

"Can I just... go to sleep... mmm-we'll do this later..." Jim was half asleep on the therapy table, having used all of his already lacking energy to move the spoon from the bowl to his mouth.

"No, come on Jim," Bones was fiddling with the equipment, shoving over the machine to Jim's legs, "Just tell me when you feel something, it's not that difficult."

Jim scrunched his face up and slumped his arms over his eyes, "But it'll huuuurt!"

"For cryin' out loud, stop bein' such a child!" the thickness of Bones' accent made Jim realise he was pissing the good doctor off.

Jim managed to stop himself from complaining, but the second the machine's humming reached his ears, Jim gasped with the pain that burned into his legs. Squeezing his eyes shut and holding a death grip to the table arms, he let out panting breaths, hoarse groaning making itself obvious.

"It's alright, just breathe through it," Bones' muttering cut through the cloud of pain.

"Bones..." he squeaked breathlessly, cracking his eyes open to find the man.

"I know, I know..."

"Bones it's-- ahh-ah god-- fuck it, Bones-- stop the...fucking thing!"

The seconds continued to stretch on, and Jim's vision began collecting faded black dots, his head swimming. He shut his eyes again.

"Jim." he heard a voice echoing, demanding of him, "Stay with me, just another few more seconds."

_It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts oh my god oh my god shit shit shit shit!_

"I've turned it off, you still with me?"

Jim didn't bother to open his eyes. It was too much effort. Everything hurt and he just wanted to sleep.

"Jim?" there was a few taps to his cheek, before the back of a warm hand rested against his forehead. He felt himself losing grip of reality...sinking...falling...

"Ah... I need assistance... here!" the voice started breaking up, still echoing like it was a million miles away. His hands fell of the arm rests from how relaxed he were.

The next thing Jim heard was the hiss of a hypo, but for once, couldn't feel it.

The sound of a woman's voice...

Machines humming...

Another hiss...

In reality, ten seconds had passed. For Jim, it felt like he'd been laying there for hours.

"Jim... I know... awake... try to... bit longer...'

The sudden switch in tone meant that Bones was talking to him. He groaned.

"I know...difficult..."

A plastic mask was placed over Jim's mouth and nose; he whined at the back of his throat in dismay, the edges of the mask rubbing against his skin.

"It's just... breath back..."

A couple more minutes stretched past. As Jim's breathing evened out with the pain in his legs subsiding, a hand ran through his hair, muttering reassurances, keeping him grounded.

"Jim, you in there?" Jim blinked open his eyes, his vision was still hazy. A hand slipped into his, gripping it loosely, "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me?"

Jim managed to muster the strength to weakly grasp McCoy's fingers, the echoing of the bleeping monitors still confusing him.

"I can't... do this everyday...Bones..." Jim struggled to speak coherently.

"I know, kid, I'm gonna speak to my staff and find another way, alright?"

Jim gave a quiet "mmhm" and let his eyes flutter shut.

"You still in pain?"

"Mmmmm.."

A few shuffling noises, a murmur from both female and male voices.

"Jim?"

"Hmmm..."

"I'm gonna give you ketamine sedation, so you're gonna feel real tired," Bones' voice was a strain on his energy to listen to and process, "If it's even possible to get even more tired than this..." a sharp pinch in his arm, followed by something cold travelling through his veins, and Jim's head started spinning, hearing the world around him fade away. The last thing he felt was a hand grip his shoulder before his descent into nothingness.

...

Every day since Jim had woken up in sickbay, he was always greeted with either McCoy, Spock or Chapel. This time, he was woken up by a voice that froze his body rigid, thinking it was a nightmare.

"Take him," the voice echoed, Jim still suffering effects of the sedatives, felt strong hands gripping onto his forearms and hauling him over what felt like a shoulder. He wriggled around in attempt to escape, managing to bite the offending creature in the neck, causing the young man to drop to the floor, followed by angry booming yells.

Opening his eyes to the familiar voice, the anxiety pitting in his stomach was confirmed to be for a reason when he saw the large figures looming above him.

_Klingons._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romulans and Klingons haven't forgotten about Jim yet.

Today marked three months since Jim was abducted by Klingons and Romulans. Now, it seems he's got himself in that situation,

_Again._

_How?_

Before Jim could react to the Klingons staring down at him, something sharp dug into his wrist, emitting a gasp from his lips.

"Do not make a sound, Kirk. You are needed in the Klingon Empire. You will be taken."

Jim scoffed at the creature's retort. "Oh yeah? Nice to know I'm wanted, uhhh..." he blinked slowly at the fatigue quickly building up; perhaps he was drugged, what with the pain in his wrist.

_This is another hallucination_

_This is another hallucination_

_This is another hallucination_

He was snapped out of his thoughts when his head was slammed down to the marble floor with a boot heel.

_Not a hallucination then._

"I said no noise! Or do you want an example of what I will do you to you if you disobey?"

"Suuure" he slurred tiredly.

_Must stay awake._

_Must stay awake._

_Must. Stay. Awa--_

"Perhaps this will silence you," suddenly something black was forced around his mouth.

It took him a while to realise the time-old method they were using.

_Masking tape? Really?_

His disapproval was evident in his expression. The Klingon continued to stare at him for a while longer before turning away and grabbing a device, "Transport us back to the ship, we have..." he stared down at Jim menacingly, "-the package."

Jim grinned under the tape. "Mnhn nhm mmhn mmg,"

Scowling, the Klingon stepped forward and ripped off the tape.

"Speak your words!"

"Uh. Thanks."

"Speak your mumbled words!"

Jim offered a shit-eating grin, "You'll find that I do have an awesome package."

"Human, you _are_ the package."

Jim just smiled to himself and didn't reply, granting a stomp and the tape wrapped around his mouth again.

_Totally worth it._

Just then, red particles spun around Jim and the other Klingons, he began to panic.

_They're actually going to transport?_

_Where the hell is security?_

He has no time to think of an escape plan as the world materialised around him into dark red musky corridors, filled with dozens of large Klingons, weapons and tools clattering together as they moved along the corridor. Jim didn't have much time to take in his surroundings as he was grabbed by the neck and hauled away, sending him flailing and falling to the ground from loss of balance, allowing himself to be dragged across the stone floor. As his flailing continued, the Klingons must have got pissed off with him as something was eventually plunged into the back of his neck, and he was out before he heard the thud.

...

"Kirk."

His eyes opened the second the syllable was pronounced. In his line of sight revealed not a Klingon, but another enemy.

"Rom'yln" Jim mumbled tiredly, eyes unfocusing and refocusing.

"That's right, you're with me now."

_This Romulan saved me from the Klingons?_

Jim groggily tried to sit up but was stopped by something. He was too tired to care what it was,

"Mmm'thank"

A chuckle, "You won't be thanking me when you realise why."

"Hmmm..." Jim groaned, closing his eyes to fall asleep again.

"Well? Don't you want to know why?"

Jim shook his head sluggishly, "Mmmnoo..."

At that, Jim was forced to open his eyes as a sudden bolt of white burning pain stormed through his wrist.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly, "The hell do you want?" He caught a hypo being tossed away at the corner of his eye, making him cringe.

"Your obedience! You will work for me!"

Jim huffed and shut his eyes again, "Is that right..."

_Thump!_

"Fuck! Fucking stop that!" Jim yelled as the storm of pain thundered through his chest, noticing the same hypo getting pushed aside. His shoulder was on fire!

"I will have no need if you will just do as I say." The Romulan was persistent, now beginning to circle Jim, "Who do you work for, Kirk?" The Romulan spat his name with venom.

"The United Federation of Pla--"

_Wham!_

"F-fuck!" he threw his head back, coughing at the build up of bile in his throat.

"Who do you work for?"

"The United--"

_Wham!_

"--Federation--"

_Wham!_

"Of P-Planets..."

_Wham!_

The device was hit with so much force against his shoulder now, eliciting cries of agony from Jim's lips.

"Ah...god..." he panted, the world spinning while he lay tensed rigid and breathless. This time, Jim saw the captor carry the device in hand seconds before he fell victim to it-- a hypospray.

_Hissss..._

He gasped, "S-shit!" he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned, his body frozen rigid, "Stop!"

The hypo was slammed against his neck again, Jim's eyes rolled back as he fell into a seizure-- his head repeatedly whacked against the metal.

"Hmm. Humans are so weak," the Romulan retorted to itself, watching Jim's body convulse against the table he had him bound to.

...

"Uggghh..." Jim's entire body ached, moving a single muscle caused spasms of pain across his arms.

_I need to get out of here._

Weakly, Jim pried open his eyes, revealing the ceiling of a room... and that's about it. He could only see a grey metal ceiling and that was it.  
Attempting to move his head to look around, Jim groaned when he realised it was bound down. He tested his other limbs to see what else was trapped here.

Unfortunately, both of his arms were strapped down and outstretched out across horizontal arm supports, likely to stop him from being able to think of a plan that involved grabbed anything nearby. His legs were probably strapped down too, but as usual, he couldn't feel or move them anyway.

He grunted, wondering how the hell he got here and what they wanted with him-- what did that Romulan say earlier? That he must work for them?

_Pfft, fat chance in hell._

"I see you are finally awake, Kirk." The familiar voice of the Romulan resounded through his ear.

Jim blinked wearily, "Uh huh, and I'm still not working for you. See I'm kinda busy, working as a Captain and all, can I go now?"

The Romulan huffed and shook his head. "You will never be able to leave until you are working for me!"

Jim sniggered, "Looks like I'm staying here nice and cosy for a while then."

Jim immediately regret his retort as it earned a hiss-sting in his arm, followed by pain so severe, all he could do has squeeze his eyes shut and scream his lungs dry through it. Searing fire ripped through his stomach, burning, squeezing, leaving him breathless, tears threatening loosely on the edge of his eyes.

"This will continue until you give up." The captor said, after the punishment was over.

Jim took in a shaky exhale, noticing the metallic taste in his mouth-- blood?

_I've bit my fucking tongue._

"I don't know what part of 'I'm not doing it' that you don't understand, but here's something your thick fucking skull might just get: Fuck off."

The Romulan stepped right next to Jim, peering over his line of vision that he couldn't move away from, offering an intimidating smirk that made Jim's blood run cold.

"Then I will have to resort to more drastic measures," he mocked him with a smile, "Bring me the EC machine!" was shouted across the room. Quickly, two Romulans entered and dragged up a machine with a headphone-looking-device on top of it, and pulled round behind Jim to the back of his head.

Jim felt his heart racing faster, "What kind of sick game are you playing at, man? I just want to get back to my ship and--"

"Silence!" the Romulan bellowed, making Jim want to squirm, if only he could. The Romulan, who was behind him, stood over him and gave him such intimidating looks that made him feel sick.

"Perhaps next time you will decide to join me," the Romulan retorted, pushing the headphone-looking device over the sides of Jim's temples.

His eyes desperately looked from side to side, "What do you me-- _AAAAAGHH!_ "

Jim's screams were cut off short as he was left having another fit on the table, violently wracking his head against the metal and the rest of his body being thrown against the restraints. Quickly, the Romulan administered a hypo to Jim's outstretched, tense forearm, causing him to wrench open his eyes and continue wailing in pain. The Romulan muttered quietly, shoved a gag into the screaming man's mouth to shut him up, turned to face the other Romulans that had paid Jim a visit, and gave them the same hypo of doom.

"This will keep him awake. Continue to do this until he is at the brink of death!" he spat to the two bystanding Romulans. They both gave a curt nod and watched the captor leave the room, then focused on the writhing seizing man on the table.

Whenever he passed out, a hypo was given to bring him back around again. It was extreme, even for Romulans. But they were renown for their methods on getting what they wanted; and Jim had fallen victim to it.

....

"Oh... _god_..." Jim whimpered upon waking up a final time. Apparently, he had passed out again and been left to it, but at least the gag had been finally taken out. The voltage had stopped, but god was he in _agony_! He felt like he was drifting in and out of reality, eyes rolling around aimlessly. He could hear himself breathing.

"That was only the beginning of what we will do to you, if you continue to refuse to cooperate."

Jim's eyes shot open at the echoed voice. He couldn't go through that, not again.

"Please..." he muttered under his breath, his pride was lost long ago, "No more..."

He winced as a hand suddenly grabbed and squeezed his arm, letting out unhidden quiet sobs.

"Do you still refuse to cooperate?"

Jim shakily inhaled, "I can’t... cooperate... you know that..."

 _God damn it Jim, you’re being so pathetically weak!_ He thought to himself. He missed Bones complaining about every little tiny thing to him.

"Then we will manually reprogram you by force, if you refuse to help us," the Romulan leaned in closer, "And that anguish is even worse than what you have already experienced!" He tried to patronise Jim, but he was growing tired.

He was already so weak from recovering on the Enterprise, and he couldn't hold up his mask much longer. The young Captain had been drugged and infected with a parasite a month ago, suffered hallucinations and severe panic attacks, even became paralyzed at some point-- and his legs were still not working.

He didn't care.

He was still hurting. A lot.

Usually, he could deal with anything, cope with anything. He had been to Tarsus for god sakes, nothing compared to it.

But not this time. He was defeated the second he was taken from sickbay, and he knew it.

He decided to allow whatever was going to happen; to happen.

The Romulans could do whatever the hell they wanted with him.

....

The next thing Jim was aware of was something tugging at his arm. He had a fitful sleep, between wakefulness and unconsciousness, but this time he was wide awake.

Upon opening his eyes, he managed to twist his head to the side to find an IV in his arm. Or something sticking into his arm anyway.

Blinking slowly, he rolled his head to the other side and mumbled, "Enterprise?"

His hopes were crushed the second a Romulan came into his line of vision.

"Far from it."

Jim moaned incoherently, he wanted to be back on his ship, with his crew. Even sickbay would be a beautiful sight right now.

"Why...you doing this?" he whined, straining himself to get up, but finding he couldn't move.

"Blame your stupid doctor friend, he is the one that set your Klingon prisoner free!"

Jim inhaled slowly, as if it had to take precise movement and concentration, "But he told the authorities..."

Jim's stomach twisted at laughter booming behind him.

"Your federation stopped pursuit after the shuttle turned back to the neutral zone, he taunted Jim, clearly proud of himself, "They gave up the shuttle avoid war with us, they have done the opposite!"

Jim shut his eyes and willed himself to go back to sleep. "Stupid... stupid..." he mumbled. By the looks of things, the Klingons and Romulans were working together to get Jim to help them both travel into Federation space.

Nothing good could come of that.

Rancid breath was blown onto his face, Jim's eyes shot open, the Romulan almost nose-to-nose with him, "You will lead the rebellion."

Jim shook his head lethargically, "Will find me... they will find me..." his voice was weary and drooling, "...will get out of this..."

He awaited the response, but there were none. Jim let his eyes slip closed again, desperate to sleep.

_The longer I sleep, the less time I have to wait for my crew to find me._

So, he tried.

And tried.

_And tried._

Minutes went by, Jim was growing restless. Staring up at the ceiling with eyes both open and closed, trying to calm his breathing back down to a natural state and even muttering reassurances to himself all the while ignoring the words of his captor did nothing to help him sleep.

"You may find that you are unable to lose consciousness," the voice of his captor interrupted his angered thoughts of not sleeping.

"Why..." Jim exhaled, "What have... you done..."

"Do you remember the parasite that grew in your body?"

At this, Jim flew to his senses, attempting to sit up instantly on the table like a surprised animal, but was bound at the limbs. Still.

"I take that as a yes," the voice sneered, "The same drug we programmed the parasite to deliver is flowing through your bloodstream. You will not sleep."

Jim felt his stomach sink, twisting into the sensation of queasiness.

"The lack of unconscious mind will drive you insane. Unless you help us."

_These people are a race of psychopaths._

"I'd give my life... if it meant you will fail..."

His words were taken badly at a hand to his throat, "I have been patient with you, obey me or I will begin punishment!"

Jim chuckled half-heartedly, "You mean hearing you talk more...? I... don't..."  
Jim was on the edge of unconsciousness before being forced back, like a person who jolts awake just before falling into a dream, "...Uh... I won't... let you... they'll... find me..."

The Romulan scowled, then stepped back, not taking his gaze off him.

"What is it that you humans are afraid of?" it asked, serious in tone, "What makes a successful hostage situation with your species?"

Jim almost choked in laughter at the remark, "You think... I'd tell you... how to get to me?" he sighed and gave himself a moment to breathe before continuing, "It depends... on the person..."

The captor stomped back over to him, mouth rigid with anger, "Lead our rebellion or I will make your life hell!" he shouted, almost a piercing shrill in Jim's ear, "Just before I end it!"

Jim shook his head against the metal surface, regardless of the protests his headache made, "You must be really stupid, man... Thought you had a common ancestry with Vulcans..." he considered how Spock would absolutely not ever think this was even remotely logical, "You're weird, dude..."

Jim knew what he had coming as a low growl progressed into a roar, the Romulan grabbing something that looked like a bag and placing it behind Jim's head. He shut his eyes, beginning to wonder if this was in fact, a no-win scenario.

"You will regret your pathetic words as you die a slow and painful death!" was the last thing yelled by the Romulan before it turned and took off out of the room, leaving Jim by himself.

As his arms started tingling, he really didn't want to be.

...

"What the hell do you mean he's gone?" McCoy stood up from his office chair and marched out the door furiously, "When the hell did he go missing?"

The nurse nervously stepped out the way, "About an hour ago, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't want to--"

"I'm not looking for excuses, find him damn it!"

"Y-yes sir, security is looking up on medbay's security logs right now," she watched McCoy walk straight into the main medbay, stride through to Jim's room, and stood gobsmacked at the empty bed.

"...Damn it!" McCoy promptly spun on his heel and out the room, "Do you have any idea how vulnerable he is? He's defenceless! His fucking legs don't work and he can hardly move his arms!"

"Sir, he might not have been kidnapped, he could have wandered off somewhere," the nurse tried to get a word in.

Chapel appeared next to McCoy, startling him, "Damn it, Chapel! For god sakes!" then he twisted back to the other nurse, "He can't walk, didn't you hear me? Someone has taken him!"

"Doctor, I think you need to try and calm down, you're no use to him like this," she spoke to him as if he were a child, he stood clenching his teeth and glaring breathless at her.

"God..." he muttered, running hands over his face.

"He'll be okay, we just need to find where he went and bring him back." Chapel attempted to reassure him, knowing full well it was pointless.

McCoy sucked in a breath and looked around with hidden panic for a second, before doing a full 180-degree turn and strode towards the nearest comm unit.

"Starfleet," he breathed, "We notify Starfleet, tell them what happened, uh..." he ran eyes rapidly over the buttons and stumbled, "Priority alert right? I don't know I've never-- oh shit can we do it from here?" he spun back to face Chapel who was inches behind him, "Do we have to go to the bridge?"

Chapel put a hand on his shoulder, " _Doctor_ ," she muttered in an authoritive tone, but McCoy pulled away and almost sprinted to the door,

"I need to go-- wait we can contact the bridge, can't we? They can do it, I--"

Chapel grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards her, " _Hey_ ," she smirked, " _Calm down_. I'll comm the bridge to contact Starfleet, why don't you check with security about the video footage?"

His eyes pondered around the room for a second before he nodded, darting out the door without a second glance.

...

For a moment, Jim was pretty sure that he had no arms, as upon becoming more alert, realised he couldn't feel them anymore.

Until he twisted his neck to the side and saw his arms were still sprawled out, intimidating him.

He scowled with irritation at the traitorous limbs.

_I didn't need you anyway._

But he paused,

_Well actually, to defend myself against Bones' hyposprays..._

"Ah, you're awake. This is good."

_Speaking of defending myself._

Jim suspiciously eyed the Romulan that walked in.

_Did he even have a name?_

"Hey uh... what do I call you? Captor? Guy-with a-good-ear-job? Romulan-who-is-persistently-fascinated-with-pain?"

The unamused Romulan snarled, snatching something and slamming it to Jim's temple, provoking a sudden yelp and an eruption of seizures.

Jim's back arched high against the table, the world exploded into whiteness, his body vibrating at the intensity of the electricity coursing through him.

The captor smiled at his punishment and tossed the device aside, watching as the rude Captain's words were silenced, and his shuddering limbs became still.

"What the hell was... that for..." Jim gasped at the throbbing pain behind his eyes, not being able to feel pain anywhere else from the numbness-- he was almost grateful.

"Insults are not welcome," the reply was monotonous and unemotional, causing Jim to cringe.

"Why can't I feel my arms?" he asked weakly, attempting once again to move them but failing.

"I told you, your death will be slow and painful."

Jim shook his head, "But I'm not dying..."

The Romulan appeared overhead, Jim felt his heart racing faster in terror, "Oh, but you are."

The same device was shoved against his neck, and just like before, the buzzing was followed by Jim's eyes rolling back as he was thrown into a seizure. The shaking started slow, and if possible, gentle, but quickly escalated to violent trembling as he was thrown around the table.

When it had stilled again, the Romulan moved his face close to Jim's, "And my name is Nuvak," Nuvak finally revealed.

Jim huffed and forced himself to inhale. The seizure left him dazed.

But Nuvak can't know that, Jim needed to show he was still in control, even if he didn't feel like it.

"Stupid name, Nuvak. Sounds like 'new vack'. 'New vacuum cleaner'. Hmm."

" ** _SILENCE_**!" Nuvak roared, a fist whacking onto Jim's chest. There was an audible crack, Jim's eyes grew wide as a pained moan escaped his lips. _That's broken._

"I grow tired of this charade. Agree to my proposition otherwise I will end your life quicker."

Jim shrugged-- or twitched; he was groggy and exhausted from the seizures inflicted on him, but couldn't show signs of weakness.

He didn't even _offer_ a proposition. Only that he had to help _Nuvak and friends_ enter Federation space and conquer every planet into slavery there. No biggie.

"Fuck off."

Nuvak visibly tensed up, then stomped behind Jim. "You will regret your actions, Kirk."

Before Jim could think of another retort, something cold entered his veins, and it didn't take long for his brain to catch up and realise the liquid flowing was burning as it travelled up his arm and around hid body.

Jim scrunched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as blinding whiteness covered his vision.

His lips emit a low whimper, while he wrenched his head from side to side.

It felt as if a sharp needle covered in lemon juice was being plunged into an open wound and twisted forcefully.

He was so frightened, but he had to stay strong.

_I have to face him, I can't look weak._

He opened his eyes, but was greeted with the room spinning out of focus-- his eyes wandered in confused vertigo.

Jim felt as if he were falling down a hole, he saw only tunnel vision.

His stomach churned, nausea setting in. Bile rose to his throat.

"What..." he swallowed down the threatening bile, struggling to create words, "…Have you done?"

He immediately regret his show of weakness; Jim couldn't show that Nuvak was getting to him, that he had an advantage over him.

There was a quiet chuckle, before he heard; "I have increased the drug that poisons your system. Very soon you will stop breathing and die. Do you want that?"

Jim stared directly into Nuvak's eyes, holding his breath, not daring to look away.

_Keep it together keep it together keep it together—_

"You are hopeless!" Jim jumped to attention at the shouting voice. "Do you purposefully attempt to anger me?"

Jim licked his lips, still frozen to the spot, "I don't know..."

_Damn, that sounded so pathetic, way to go._

"You don't know!" Nuvak grabbed what Jim recognised as a hypo and jammed it between Jim's ribs, earning a pained screech, his mouth hung upon with unspoken screams that he wouldn't allow to escape.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't inhale.

_He couldn't inhale._

_He can't breathe._

His eyes were fixated to the ceiling, unmoving.

If he moved, his chest seized up and rebelled with agonising pain that made tears prick in his eyes.

Then Nuvak striked the hypo again, this time against his neck-- his victim let out a loud cry before he fell back against the table motionless.

Jim's eyes rolled back, his head lulled to the side, he stopped breathing.

Nuvak stared bitterly at him.

"It was worth a try."


	14. Chapter 14

**An update? Already? Yeah I’m really getting into this story :D**

**Warning: There is some serious angst towards the end of the chapter and detailed mentions of blood, and character death.**

**...**

"Here's what I found, around two hours ago," a security officer, Lieutenant Benson brought up the security footage to a very impatient McCoy. If he was an arrogant, grumbling git before, then have mercy on whoever stood in his way now.

He had managed to drag Spock along with him, after an interrogation by the hobgoblin about how he should be in sickbay and not reforming himself as a security guard.

Apparently, he wasn't "efficient" enough in that area.

"There," Spock nodded towards the holographic image as the red particles of the transporter began materialising in the cargo bay. "Was the room not under surveillance?"

McCoy bit his lip and grunted, "It sure as hell is gonna be when I find who left it unguarded."

With everyone ignoring the doctor's frustrated remarks, they all passed around confused glares when the creature and the red particles materialised out again.

"The hell was that?" McCoy grumbled, gesturing to the screen everyone was already looking at.

"There is a specie that we are familiar with, which has the capability to transport, and would purposefully hide themselves in a secluded area of the ship." Spock announced in a matter-of-fact tone.

McCoy's eyebrows went where no eyebrows have gone before.

"You gonna tell us?" he bit back. Spock stepped away for a second and seemed to consider his next words, "Doctor. A word in private?"

Noticing it was more of a statement than a question, McCoy nodded and gestured for Spock to go outside of the room with him.

Once the doors had prevented anyone inside the transporter room from hearing, Spock bent his head to the side.

McCoy narrowed his eyes, "And?"

"Doctor, I am aware of the fact that you released a Klingon prisoner and lied to security about it being transported off board."

_Shit._

"I am also at a loss as to how this was not noticed in the transporter logs,"

McCoy opened his mouth to speak but was silence by a lifted finger,

"However, my observation comes with meaning. Considering the secretive way in which the creatures boarded the ship, the Captain going missing and the red particles of the materialisation, it would be logical to assume that this corresponds to the plan that the Klingons had in using the Captain for their plot, and the colour, red, that matches their transporter particles, much like ours is a tint of yellow."

Of course, damn it! He knew the Vulcan was a use for something.

McCoy grabbed Spock's arm, "Spock, you're a genius!"

Spock's head twisted at an unnatural angle, "Why thank you doctor," he acknowledged in a mocking tone.

"So, what you're saying is; the Klingons, they were here? They've got Jim?"

"Affirmative. That is my theory. I suggest that the security footage of the past three hours to Jim's medical quarters are looked over, to identify for unusual readings, or sights."

McCoy turned his head to the side in thought, nodding curiously. "Yeah, hold on," he strode back to the transporter room doors and met inside with the rest of the search party, "Uh, Lieutenant, can you look in... ah..." he tried to remember which isolation room Jim was in, he changed rooms all the damn time,

"Uh, try quarantine 12, look for something unusual over the past few hours,"

The redshirt nodded, "Yes sir" was followed by immediately diving into the transporter computer logs, that for whatever reason, also contained the security footage. He turned to Spock, who had just wandered back in, offering him appreciative glances.

...

"Kirk," Nuvak announced, startling him from a state of trance, the creature standing over him.

"What." Jim mumbled, trying to sound all tough but failing miserably, as all that came out was a voice crack.

"You are not dead yet?" Nuvak generally sounded surprised, even his facial expression backed his tone of voice up.

"Clearly not," Jim shut his eyes and sighed, knowing what was coming next for his gloriously stupid remark.

But the four hundred and fifty floods of voltages never came.

"How interesting, my past encounters have not survived before now."

Jim scoffed, he didn't want to show that he cared about to people that this monster had murdered, "So what?"

Damn it with the retorts, do you want to get yourself electrocuted? Jim condemned himself.

"Have you tried my mind-sifter?"

Jim's blood froze, automatically tensing up every muscle in his body.

He held back a terrified choke. _Shit._

_No no no god don't you fucking dare. Don't you fucking dare you fucking monster._

"I've heard about it. Is it nice?" he played it cool, concentrating on taking calming breaths.

_Don't show weakness don't show weakness don't show--_

"Would you like to try it?"

_God, no. Please don't. Please for the love of god just electrocute the shit out of me but don't use that thing on me. Please. Please. Fuck._

"Dunno man, I'm pretty cosy on this table you know, been keeping it warm for a while," Jim licked his dry lips, he'd die for water right now.

"I assure you, Kirk, the chair is much more comfy." Nuvak stepped towards said chair, analysing it, striking the device attached to it.

Jim's stomach twisted, noticing he was breathing faster. He hoped it wouldn't catch any unwanted attention.

_Stay cool. Don't let him see you're scared. Stay cool._

"Come on, have a go," Nuvak pat the top of the chair, the mind-sifter on top of it, then looked in admiration at the device.

"No-" Jim shouted all too quickly,

_Damn it, you've screwed up this time._

Nuvak smiled at his panicked outburst, then trod slowly back towards Jim with a sick grin on his face.

Jim felt sick to his stomach.

Nuvak glanced behind him, "qama' DorwI' tuQDoq!"

_Speaking Klingon huh? This fella is straying well away from home, jeez._

Two Romulans stormed into the room, closing in on Kirk. One used a heavy hand to shove him down to the table, while the other unbuckled his restraints.

Soon, he was hauled under the arm pits and dragged along the floor to the not-so-comfy-looking-chair, pushed back into it, being buckled in. He was silently grateful that he was no longer lying spread-out on his back.

His attention returned to him when a loud _clunk_ from the helmet setting onto his head violated his ear drums.

He was now hyperventilating.

_Control yourself. Control. Control._

“This isn’t gonna work you know,” Jim lied, knowing full well it’d fuck him up for life. But hey, you gotta try.

“This has been a successful method of interrogation on all other specimens.”

_Fuck. Just don't make a sound._

"Are you ready?" Nuvak taunted him. Jim's eyes darted from left to right, struggling at the restraint wrapped around his forehead, holding his head back.

"Fuck. You don't have to do this, you know? Do you know what it does to us humans?"

Nuvak smiled, "Of course, that's why I enjoy it so."

And with that, a switch was pulled, and Jim was thrown tightly against the chair, his eyes growing wide as images flooded his mind; images he didn't want to see. Screams erupted and surrounded the room.

"W-w-w-why-y-y n-n-not j-j-just k-k-kill m-m-m-me?" he shuddered out with vibrating lips. "J-just s-s-s-shoot me p-p-pl-e-e-ease"

His request was ignored.

"Turn his memories against him," Nuvak snarled, "Make him terrified by even the thought of his _Federation_."

Jim's mouth hung open, blood trickling from his nose, and out the corners of his eyes.

"That should finish him." Was heard, before he was plunged into violent white agony, tears spilled a constant stream out of his eyes, he tried to control his rapid gasping and sobbing, to no avail.

_The fucker is gonna leave it on. He's gonna leave it on._

_Oh shit._

_Oh my god._

_Stop, stop the fucking thing, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..._

And so, the captors left the room, and left Jim locked into a chair that forced him to suffer his fucked-up childhood all over again, introducing fears that made him cry out in anguish, all the while he was seizing from electrocution, his eyes rolled back white into their sockets, foam eventually dribbling out the corner of his mouth from the abuse.

Nuvak hoped the next time he walked in, his prisoner would actually be dead this time.

...

"Got it!" The Lieutenant excitedly shouted, "Sir!"

McCoy was next to the Lieutenant in a heartbeat.

"What you got Benson? You have the footage?"

"Yes sir, and look!" he pointed at the familiar red particles from earlier footage, "It's the same materialisation effect, it's the same Klingon!"

McCoy peered closer to the monitor, analysing the time lapse. Spock followed from the opposite side.

Sure enough, footage revealed the Klingons attacking their Captain, and the moment that he had disappeared at the same as the Klingon through a flurry of red mist.

Spock broke his gaze with the monitor and hit the wall comm.

"Spock to bridge,"

McCoy straightened his shoulders and left the room, aiming straight for the _god damned bridge._

_…_

Upon entering, the first thing he did was glare down Uhura. She gave a nervous smile.

"Did you contact Starfleet?"

She nodded, "They're going to rendezvous with us, help us if we haven't found the Captain before then,"

McCoy nodded, swiftly turning his attention to the door when it hissed open, Spock storming in.

"Captain on ze bridge!"

McCoy blinked away the pit of despair his stomach was in; it was Jim who were the Captain, not Spock.

"Are there any signs of a Klingon vessel within sensor range?"

McCoy turned his attention to the ensign manning the scanner.

"Yes sir, a Romulan ship too. Both of them have gone separate directions."

Spock remained standing for a second, seemingly lost to the world as he gazed off into the distance, before glancing up and facing the helm.

"We will pursuit both ships until we have found Jim, is it possible to--"

"Sir, I'm picking up traces of transporter energy from the Klingon ship to the Romulan ship. It's possible they've transported Kirk onto the Romulan ship."

McCoy narrowed his eyes, folding his arms, "And why would this specie of moron work together? What do the Romulans want with Jim?"

If both the Klingons and Romulans were working together to catch Jim, he could only dread the kind of situation the kid was in right now.

"Mister Sulu, set course to intercept the Romulan vessel. Warp six."

There was hesitation in the air before "aye aye Captain."

Spock, unable to do anything else, sat back in his chair, but looked unmistakably miserable, even for a Vulcan. The entire bridge was silent, barring the noises of the machines and buttons. McCoy cautiously approached Spock, planting a hand on his shoulder, expecting for him to yank away, but there way no reaction.

He decided to leave the Vulcan in his contemplative silence.

...

Jim wasn't sure if he was awake; he felt like he was dreaming.

Perhaps he was.

He tuned into his surroundings, listening to the creaking and groans of the ship, with the occasional loud bang of something probably hitting the floor.

The rest of the world was only blackness. If Jim opened his eyes, or at least he _thought_ he opened his eyes, it was nothing different to the emptiness of when his eyes were closed.

He was marginally aware of his breathing; it sounded hoarse and wheezy, perhaps he was actually lying on a truck and it wasn't his breathing after all.  
A warm trickle of blood ran down the side of his face; it was soothing for Jim. The rest of his body were numb.

Without warning, Jim's back arched as he clenched his teeth and hissed, followed by his body falling lax against the ground and his shoulders uncontrollably shaking.

It was starting to get irritating- the trembling, and as time went on, progressed into violent shudders to the point where his head was being repeatedly hit against the floor, panting as his lungs tried to keep up with the moment, but it came out as broken gasps.

The last thing he remembered was the sensation of foam dribbling out his mouth.

...

"Mister Chekov I want you to assist the transporter staff in case something goes wrong. Call down to security and arrange an away team." Spock ordered his crew, leaving McCoy staring dumbfounded at him.

"Spock, don't you think I should be down there too? In case he's, you know, _dying_?"

There was no hesitation before Spock shook his head, "Negative, you must remain here for precisely that reason. It is logical to be prepared for the Captain's condition."

McCoy scowled at the idiotic hobgoblin but rolled his eyes and entered the turbolift.

"Sickbay," he called out.

...

The landing party arrived on the Romulan ship, immediately whipping out their phasers in the event that the Romulans knew they were coming.

But there was no one else there.

"Where are we?" Lieutenant Founder asked the question the rest of the crew were wondering, hauling a survival kit over his shoulder for backup.

"Judging by the lack of security and the bare room, I would theorise that we are on the ship's cargo bay."

Everyone moved out, following Spock's lead out of the room, cautiously watching out for unwanted company. Peering around the corner wall, Spock held out an arm to stop an over-enthusiastic guard,

"Wait. There are several Romulans marching down this corridor."

As they were all peering around the corner, Founder grabbed Spock's shoulder, which was pulled away roughly. The Vulcan gave a curious expression to the Lieutenant.

"Sorry sir, uh... where can we find the Captain? Surely we're not gonna check every room on this ship?" Then he paused as Spock's lips tightened, "...Right?"

There were a few moments of tense silence before, "Remove your hand from my shoulder, Lieutenant."

Founder quickly stepped away, not noticing he'd tried to touch him again.

"Are there life signs corresponding to humans in this area?" Spock asked quietly, eying the Romulans still pooling the end of the hall.

An ensign pulled out their tricorder, everyone jumped at the sound it made.

"Yeah, there's one about three blocks away from here. I'd bet it's the Captain's," the Ensign stated, pushing the tricorder away.

Spock nodded stiffly, "Very well, follow me," he whispered, stepping out and quickly walking across the corridor, doing his best to avoid eye contact with the enemy.

...

Jim briefly returned to some state of awareness, noticing a cold chill around him. It was obvious even in his place that Nuvak, or some other Romulan psycho, had presumed him dead and stripped him. Perhaps ready for autopsy.

_Shit. What if they do it without realising I'm still alive?_

He was able to feel the freezing cold sting of metal under his back, but was still unable to see anything.

_Maybe I'm not blind and the lights are just turned off?_

In the distance, he heard voices of a familiar language, Romulans. Except this time, they were not talking Klingon.

They grew closer to him, and it became obvious they were soon right next to him from the smell. He held back a startled yelp when his head was yanked to the side, the metal scraping his cheeks.

"The colour has not yet left his face," he heard. It was weird, the voice sounded so far away yet the creature was touching him.

"But he is pale. I don't understand what you mean."

"His skin has not started turning blue from lack of oxygen. It's possible that he's still alive."

_Yes, I'm alive damn it! Don't you dare do jack shit to me!_

"Commander Nuvak wants me to extract his brainwaves in order to discover Federation secrets."

"So, get on with it then!"

_No! Fuck!_

"If there is a possibility that he is conscious, then I refuse to do the procedure."

_Thank god. How do I prove I'm conscious? I'm still breathing, can't you see that?_

"He's not alive, you moron! Look, he's not moving!"

There was unnerving silence, before the sound of clattering from equipment reached his ears. 

"If he is indeed alive, then this shall end it."

_Wait what?_

All of a sudden, there was a violent blinding pain in his chest, Jim opened his mouth and screamed so loud that the noise vibrated against his eardrums.

Then there was nothing.

...

Spock's head shot up at the scream in the distance. Another reason why his Vulcan ears were so useful.

"I believe I know where Kirk is being held," Spock whispered, trying to logically solve the puzzle of how many corridors away that scream came from.

"Romulans!" Benson hissed, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Get over here!" Founder harshly whispered, darting to a large crate box by a door. Everyone followed and ducked on their knees behind the box. As soon as they were sure that the Romulans would not cross paths with them, they’d make a hasty run for it in another direction.

Spock was frozen rigid, staring at his tricorder.

"Captain?" Benson noticed him. Spock looked up slightly, then tucked the tricorder away. "Life signs are gone."

Four heads turned to stare at him, all in shock and despair.

"But he was recovering on the Enterprise... I know he was, I saw the update!" Ensign Sackle muttered, her voice almost a screech.

"Quieten your voice," Spock warned, "It is clear that the Romulans have somehow managed to end Kirk's life."

More stunned silence...

"I will alert the medical staff," Spock announced, taking out his communicator.

"Spock to Enterprise."

Spock glanced at his fingers; they were visibly shaking.

_I am a Vulcan._

_There are no emotions._

"Enterprise, Sulu here, Captain."

Spock quietly inhaled, "Mister Sulu, is the doctor still there?"

Almost immediately, there were strained grunts followed by clattering noises, likely McCoy had taken the communicator.

"McCoy here, Spock, the hell's going on?"

Spock swallowed hard. "Doctor... Kirk's life signs have ceased."

The silence that followed could have killed.

"W-wh-wha' do you mean they've ceased? He's... dead?"

Spock blew out a breath and gripped the communicator tighter, "It would seem so."

The sound of incoherent yelling replaced the doctor's voice. Spock couldn't quell the illogical feeling of nausea in his stomach.

"I can save him! Bring him back up here, damn it!"

Spock shut his eyes, "We have yet to find him, doctor, by then it would be too late."

A few more moments of silence. Spock used his other hand to grip onto his shaking one, internally berating himself for showing such weakness.

Then, floods of shouting emitted from the communicator,

"Get out my damn way!"

"Doctor!"

"Doctor McCoy!"

"Fuck off!"

"Move!"

Spock glanced to the side, everyone was staring at the floor, miserably listening to the doctor's outburst. Not wanting to succumb to even more human emotion, Spock decided to end the transmission.

"We will return Kirk's body to you. Spock out."

He flipped the communicator shut before a protest could be made and stared at the floor, unmoving.

The rest of the landing party shared the silence.

"Let us continue, I can recollect the approximate location of Kirk's last signal." Spock muttered, peeking up from the crate box to check for Romulans, and stepped out. The others followed him.

...

"We were too god damn late," McCoy mumbled to Chapel, back in sickbay. She pursed her lips together before taking McCoy's arm,

"It wasn't your fault."

McCoy shook his head, "We didn't do everything we could," he muttered, "And Spock, he didn't care! That green blooded son of a bitch didn't even crack while telling me his friend was dead, not once!"

Chapel led him towards his office, nodding to the other staff to take over.

Upon closing the door, McCoy slammed his fist into the computer screen.

" _Fuck_!" he screamed at the glass now embedded in his hand. But he didn't care.

"Perhaps..." Chapel sat him down on his office chair, "He gave up so easily because of what he was already going through."

McCoy bowed his head and clenched his fists, blowing frustrated breaths through his nostrils, not caring about the pain the glass was causing. "So, you're saying that he wanted to die," he murmured.

Chapel took the medkit from the desk and silently grabbed the disinfectant and a hypo, "You can't blame this on yourself. Don't forget that he had post traumatic stress disorder, which didn't help." She kept her voice steady and strong, knowing Jim was much closer to McCoy than anyone else, so would be most difficult for him. "I'm gonna give you a painkiller," she waved the hypo between her fingers, and McCoy nodded his consent. He didn't flinch when she stuck it in his palm.

"I was supposed to be looking after him," McCoy watched Chapel spray the disinfectant, "And can you hurry up, I don't want to stay sitting down, if that uh... makes sense."

Chapel offered a reassuring smile and took out the retractor, "I'm just trying to take it slow for you, but if that's what you want,"

He nodded and grit his teeth when Chapel started pulling the shrapnel out of his skin.

With his free hand, McCoy gripped onto the edge of his seat as tightly as possible; not from pain, but from pure frustration.

"Stupid question, but you okay?" Chapel questioned him, shutting the medkit. McCoy immediately stood up and inhaled deeply, "Yeah, I mean..." he leaned against the wall, "I feel like I could've done more."

...

"From what I can recall, Kirk should be in here," Spock gestured to the room just to the left of him. Checking left and right, the crew quickly made their way into the room.

Everyone except Spock almost gagged at what they saw.

A iron chair with a blood-stained seat and headrest, there were still red droplets oozing from the helmet that dangled to the side. At the end of the room, a table with straps loosely left all over the floor, dried blood over the metal that left the room smelling of tangy metallic paint. IV stands hung from poles, seemingly the only object in the room that was not covered with blood.

And in the middle, another table with a man on it, his head lulled to the side, completely stripped bare. Deep inflamed red cuts run down his entire body, huge lashes over his abdomen, purple and black bruises matted his skin, his face deathly grey with his lips a tinge of blue. His chest had a small incision hole in it, from what only god knows.

An ensign promptly threw up and almost left the room before Spock grabbed him, giving him death glares.

_Do not leave the room unless you wish to end up like him._

"Is that..." Benson croaked weakly.

"Indeed." Spock muttered in a tone so low and with distraught, one would not think the word came from him.

Slowly, Spock stepped over to Kirk, noticing blood still dripping from his side. Carefully, he hauled him onto his side, revealing his back drenched in red sticky liquid, still oozing its contents onto Spock's trembling fingers.

"I'm gonna be sick" said a voice from behind him, but Spock did not care to identify whom. This man was his best friend, and he had been tortured to death by Romulans.

_Did the cruel creatures ever get what they wanted?_

"My friend," Spock muttered quietly, and dropped Kirk onto his back again, blink slowly and turning away. His legs wobbled, and had it not been for a vigilant Lieutenant, he would have collapsed.

"Careful, sir," Founder warned, leading him to a wall. And unlike usual for the Vulcan, he obliged, unsteadily.

 _This behaviour is illogical,_ he insulted himself _. Even the humans are not acting as weak as me._

But then, in the distance, Spock's eyes noticed something.

Was it playing tricks on him? Giving him false hope? Was this the first sign of insanity?

 _It is nothing_ , he thought to himself, _Even eyes such as mine cannot see something so extreme._

But he saw it again.  
Grinding his teeth, Spock folded his arms and slowly stepped closer to Kirk.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, pressed two fingers against his neck.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited...

His eyes grew wide, a sharp inhale, "Lieutenant Benson, notify the doctor that I have given false information," he had to refrain himself from shouting, "There is a pulse."


	15. Chapter 15

McCoy jumped out of his chair at the impossible words from the communicator, "You kidding me? There’s a pulse? You better not be Lieutenant or so god help me----What? Put Spock on, the man can't lie,"

There's no way Kirk magically came back to life.

"Spock?"

"Affirmative."

"What's happening?"

"The tricorder appears to have mistaken Kirk's heart beat as non-existent, as I could only notice he was still alive from the very weak pulse I found that only a Vulcan's touch would recognise."

McCoy scowled, "So in other words, the tricorder screwed up. _Okay_." he mocked him sardonically, "How bad is it?" he dare asked.

"He is in... very bad condition."

McCoy scoffed, "Thanks for the brilliant overview, beam him up, quickly, before we lose him for good." He flipped the communicator shut and darted off to the transporter room, medkit in hand, while simultaneously comming the medical staff.

When he arrived in the transporter room, the medical personnel were there, along with an apologetic looking Scotty.

"What is it?" McCoy sighed, thinking up the possibilities of the multiple things wrong with the transporter _this_ time.

"There's new interference on the Romulan ship. I think the buggers know our lot got on board," Scotty paced around the room, not meeting the gaze of McCoy, "I can't beam anyone up, but I _can_ beam someone down," he admitted from behind the console. McCoy gave a long drawn out sigh when he realised it was _his_ atoms that had to be scattered across the galaxy.

But god damn, someone needed to get to Jim.

"Fine" he snapped, tightening his grip on the med kit and stepping onto the transporter pad, "Hurry up."

As Scotty started pressing and pulling buttons and levers, a nurse stumbled in, seemingly having ran down the corridor to catch him.

"Wait! Doctor!" she yelled, out of breath, then slowed her pace and jogged up to McCoy, handing over a cardiostimulator. He nodded his thanks, juggling it in his arms with the med kit. He shoved the kit under his left arm and held the device with the other.

_The kid is sure to need it, if he's as bad as everyone makes it seem._

McCoy sighed, "Energise," he rolled his eyes at the incoming shit-storm. Scotty spared no haste getting him off the ship.

...

McCoy hurled the med kit in front of him the second he saw Jim on the table, running over with the cardiostimulator.

"Jim," he urged, giving him light taps on the cheek, "Come on buddy,"

But there wasn't a response.

Huffing, he opened the compartment of the stimulator and took out four small circular devices, dropping the machine on the floor for a second.

He placed the devices across Jim's chest, picking up the cardiostimulator.

"Stand back," he warned the hovering Ensign.

The voltage number was set, "Shocking," he announced, and immediately Jim jumped on the table, landing back with a thump.

There wasn't an output.

Taking a deep breath, McCoy increased the charge and tried again, "Shocking," he repeated, and Jim jolted more violently than the last time.

This seemed to do it though, as the machine began bleeping, blaring out warnings of the many things wrong with Jim's system.

Everyone in the room collectively sighed in relief, and McCoy, despite himself, wanted to cry. There were small whimpers before Jim had even tried to open his eyes.

"Hey there, it's okay," he shushed, rubbing a thumb back and forth the crook of Jim's elbow.

"Uurrgghh..." Jim moaned, tears spilling out both his eyes.

Satisfied that his friend wasn't going to suddenly stop breathing again, he grabbed his medical tricorder and ran it down his patient, frowning as the seconds dragged on.

"Ah... christ, kid, they really did a number on you huh?"

Apparently, Jim had chosen not to reply, so McCoy briefly glanced up to check he was still alive. Jim was gazing half-lidded into the distance.

"What is your diagnosis, doctor?"

McCoy jumped at Spock's voice unexpectedly behind him, but rolled his eyes in exasperation. He returned his attention to the tricorder.

"Major internal haemorrhaging from his chest cavity and spleen, uh..." he stared up at the kid through furrowed eyebrows, lifting a hand to his face, "Jim, can you see my finger?"

Jim continued gazing into oblivion, as if he were unaware to his surroundings.

McCoy passed the tricorder to Spock, carefully shuffling forward and taking Jim's head in his hand, feeling for any bumps that could have led to a concussion.

But as soon as he ran a hand through his hair, his skin was covered with sticky wet liquid.

" _Fuck_ ," he muttered, fumbling through his med kit to find his communicator.

Jim moaned incoherently again; McCoy's heart broke for the kid, "I know darlin', I know," he muttered, snatching up the comm and hailing the ship.

Spock decided to manoeuvre forward too, "Doctor?" he queried the man's panicked movements.

"McCoy to Enterprise, can you beam us up?" he ignored Spock, keeping his eye on Jim, who was now shivering on the red stained table. Waiting for the reply, he stalked over to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder; Jim let out a startled gasp and pulled away,

"Hey, hey, it's alright kid, it's just me," he tried to reassure him, keeping the grip on his shoulder strong.

_Is he going into shock?_

"'Am ‘fraid not sir, gonna need a couple more minutes to get this thing working again," came Scotty's reply through the communicator. He snapped it shut without a word, then turned to Benson, who was sitting in silence with Founder.

"You," he barked, "Give me that survival kit."

Hesitantly, Benson passed it over, "There's nothing that can help us in there, sir, just some stuff to keep us warm and hydrated."

McCoy pulled out a thermal blanket, "Yeah well, lucky you packed this," he retorted, stepping back over to Jim.

There were pained creases on his face, his arms and legs were trembling badly.

Kneeling onto the floor, McCoy wrapped the blanket around Jim's bare body, tucking the edges underneath his shoulders. The kid whined at the sudden heat, but it was more of a content noise than a complaint.

"Hmmm..."

McCoy's head shot up at the sign of consciousness.

"Hey kid," he whispered, squeezing his hand, "Can you hear me?"

"Hmmm...." came the jumbled reply. Sighing, McCoy dragged over his med kit, opening the case and taking out a hypo.

"I'm gonna give you something to relax, alright?" he tried his best to make it sound like a comforting reassurance rather than an order.

The usual tell-tale symptoms of a sedative in motion were not present at all. Jim's eyes didn't droop, his muscles didn't relax, and from holding two steady fingers to his wrist, his heart was still racing.

Frowning, McCoy loaded the hypo with a stronger shot, putting it down to shock and trauma.

He needs something strong than that, you moron.

Jim's face remained impassive, so McCoy gently took his forearm and pressed the hypo in the crook of his elbow.

Again, no response.

"Spock?" he called for the Vulcan hesitantly. He was by his side in seconds, but didn't say a word.

"He's not responding to sedatives, can you do your..." his hands flew everywhere at a loss for the right word, "Vulcan...voodoo... thing. Yeah."

Excellent choice of wording.

"I can attempt a mind-meld, if that is what you are trying to suggest," Spock offered, moving to position himself beside Jim's head.

"Yeah, whatever, just don't kill him," McCoy mumbled. He hated being useless to Jim. He needed to be back in the medbay, damn it!

Spock cautiously placed his fingers to their designated points on Jim's face, being careful not to startle him.

Unlike usual, Jim's only reaction was for his blank eyes to roll sideways.

Spock gave a gentle push, and shut his eyes, leaving McCoy to watch helplessly.

You're a doctor, damn it! You need to do more than sit on your pretty ass and watch everyone else help instead.

Spock's slightly confused expression caught his attention. Then it turned to concern. And then must have realised he was showing emotion as it was soon unreadable again.

"What's up?" McCoy urged him, Spock's eyes turned to meet his.

"There is something wrong with Jim."

McCoy rolled his eyes, "I'm not an idiot Spock, I can see that, now why didn't you do anything?"

Jim hadn't changed at all, as he was still staring absently at the ceiling; obviously Spock's meld wasn't successful.

"You do not understand," Spock's voice was beginning to show tones of desperation, "I cannot reach him. It is as though he isn't there."

McCoy's eyebrows knit together in concern, hovering the medical scanner over Jim's head again.

What the hell was happening?

"However I can render Jim uncon--"

"Wha--don't!" McCoy shoved Spock's arm away the second it crept near Jim's neck, "I don't want you touching his nerves."

Spock nodded, entangling his hands behind his back, "What do you propose?"

McCoy remained silent for a while before edging closer to Jim.

Sighing, he shook his head, "Jim, uh...listen," he took his hand into a hard grip, "I'm getting... concerned about brain damage, so if you're not speaking because you're scared, then at least squeeze my hand,"

After a few long moments, there was no movement from the younger man. McCoy and Spock exchanged looks between each other, before the doctor reached for his communicator.

"Scotty?  It's worse than I thought, I need an update on the transporter," he said, taking the scanner in hand again.

The readings were not good.

Then it hit him.

_He's still haemorrhaging._

Immediately, McCoy threw the communicator to Spock, digging into his med kit. He took out a hypo, three vials, and a cauteriser.

"We're bypassing the circuit now sir, jus' give us a few more minutes," Scotty replied through the comm Spock was now holding, who was watching McCoy intensely from a distance.

"Okay, Jim," McCoy muttered, plunking all the stuff down by his side while he reached for the blanket covering his body, "I'm gonna need to pull this back, I need to try and stop the bleeding."

But as expected, Jim's gaze was elsewhere, seemingly the man had no idea of what was going on.

With a grunt, McCoy peeled the blanket back, exposing Jim's abdomen, grimacing. Some blood stains from his skin had stuck to the blanket.

"I'm gonna talk to you while I do it, okay? I know you can hear me," he lied; he had no idea if Jim was really conscious, but thought he'd take the chance. He picked up a hypo, slotting a painkiller in place and pressing it to Jim's stomach. "Now this is just a painkiller."

Spock continued watching, tight-lipped from a distance. Benson and Founder had wandered to the other side of the room, probably not wanting to see their Captain in this state.

McCoy picked up the cauteriser, hesitating with a hand floating above Jim's abdomen, before he flicked it on.

Suddenly, Jim screamed and squeezed his eyes shut, having been forced back to awareness.

"I know, I know it hurts," McCoy soothed him, trying to keep himself together, "Even Spock here screamed louder than you did, back on Altamid, the damn infant."

Spock's left eyebrow raised, but Jim just began curling in on himself.

"No--No, Jim, stop it," McCoy warned, pulling his legs out straight again, "Don't move." he resumed using the device to cauterise the wound, Jim whining under his steady hand.

Only a few seconds passed before Jim started squirming, much to the doctor's frustration.

He sighed in resignation, "Spock, can you help me hold him down?"

A curt nod of acknowledgement, and Spock quietly stepped beside Jim, attempting to send on reassuring feelings before taking his legs and stretching them out.

Jim moaned louder from the pain, struggling against the hands that stopped him from wriggling.

"I'm almost done, then we can get you back up to the Enterprise, alright?" his grip on the device tightened, before running a free hand through Jim's sweat-soaked hair.

"Urrgghh..."

"I know, I know," McCoy exhaled, "And... done," he exclaimed in relief, offering an ignored smile, before packing the device away. He gently gave him extra shots from the other two vials to help his blood clot, and took the communicator from Spock.

"Scotty, tell me for the love of god that you have the transporter working."

The kid needed decent medical attention, and _now_.

"Aye, we're ready when you are," came the miraculous voice that everyone had been waiting for.

"About time. Do it now."

He turned and nodded to the other Lieutenants who had backed away from the situation, they came plodding over quickly at the chance to get out.

The familiar tingle of yellow particles enveloped them, before their surroundings changed from musky red to prestige white.

...

Jim's world was nothing but confusion. People were opening their mouths and saying things that he didn't understand. And not only that, but now his surroundings had somehow managed to completely change without him moving!

Now that he was in a new white blinding room, activity was bustling and Jim, irritatingly, was at the heart of it.

A certain man in a blue shirt wouldn't leave him alone! People were constantly grabbing his arms, shoving water to his lips, and most annoyingly, hovering a buzzing device over his head.

But what really pushed him too far, was when that same man in a blue shirt started pressing a weird mask on his face, and because of that, he couldn't breathe!

In the face of his attacker, Jim writhed around on the table, shaking his head violently to get the mask off and biting every arm and hand that was close to his mouth. He ignored the outpour of both reassuring and cautioning noises coming from their mouths; at least that was what they sounded like. He continued like this for as long as he possibly could, his captors couldn't get to him if he struggled too hard.

But then the realisation dawned upon him.

_If I disobey, they'll electrocute me._

Instead of writhing in frustration, he bucked around in fear.

Several hands pushed him back down, but Jim didn't want to be electrocuted, not again, because it hurt.

...

"What in the world happened down there?" Chapel almost yelled, attempting to hold the writhing man still but failed; it was more like Chapel was getting pulled along with his movements.

McCoy clasped his hands round Jim's face, his stomach sinking when he realised how full of terror the eyes looking up to him were.

"Jim," he kept his voice steady and authoritive, "Jim I need you to stay still, can you do that kid?"

As expected, the words flew right past the young man's head as he continued fighting, clawing at McCoy's hands, trying to pry them off his face, but McCoy was determined to get through to him.

"Sir, the bleed in his chest is getting worse, there's fluid in his lungs," a nurse stated, jamming a hypo into Jim's neck, for all the good it would do.

McCoy bit his lip, "We need to get him into surgery," he muttered, more as a reminder to himself than an actual order.

To McCoy's dismay, Jim's throat started making a gargling noise, then his body jerked forward as a cluster of blood spirt from his lips.

Cursing, McCoy pried open the kid's mouth and ordered for a suction, with Jim's eyes rolling around semi-conscious in his head, all the while tugging the gurney forward again, continuing its trek to sickbay.

Six seconds passed before the fighting stopped, an alarm sounding from the machine clipped to the gurney's rails.

"He's losing too much blood," Chapel warned, picking up the pace. The alarms could be heard down at least three corridors, some people were stepping out of their stations and peering in front of doors to see what was going on.

They burst through sickbay doors, not sparing a single moment as they rushed through to the operating room.

"I need more assistance, get the off-duty personnel, now!" McCoy barked, ramming the gurney against the operating table and nodding at the other nurses to drag the patient over.

Thankfully, the staff were competent enough to roll Jim onto his side before the surgery started, allowing his body to throw up the blood pooling in his lungs.

"I need another suction!" McCoy called with urgency, "And I need two of O-neg blood put up,"

_Shit kid, what did they do to you?_

"Thanks," he murmured to a nurse that gave him another suction. He waited until Jim had stopped retching before he stuck the tube in his mouth.

The doors opened, more personnel came running through,

"'Bout time," McCoy retorted, "I need someone to take over from me-- where the hell is the blood transfusion?"

A needle was inserted into Jim's vein, prompting a quiet moan.

"S'alright buddy, you're okay," McCoy muttered reassurances to him, "Gonna get you all fixed up. Again. You idiot."

"Do you want him anesthetised?" McCoy was snapped out of his thoughts by a doctor prompting the answer out of him. He nodded solemnly. "Do it through--whoa! Jim!"

The kid started yanking himself upright, and successfully managed to do so. Arms flailed everywhere, trying to get out of their reach.

"Jim! Jim it's okay!" alarms started blaring again, warning everyone of his skyrocketing heart rate.

"Get away from me!" Jim cried out, smacking away McCoy's arm that tried to comfort him.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, McCoy lunged forward and wrapped arms around Jim's torso, earning a loud screech and more struggling.

He was silently thanking the stars that Jim was talking and aware-- _not_ brain damaged then.

Yanking his head to the side, Jim jerked and vomited up more blood, his muscles went slack in McCoy's grip.

"Shit, okay, nurse?" McCoy pulled him back down to the table while the anaesthesiologist pressed a mask to his face.

Blood splattered the inside of the mask, McCoy's eyes darted around the room to find the bags of blood that Jim needed.

"Why hasn't anyone-- shit!"

The entire room was flooded with a constant screeching beep,

"He's crashing, get the stimulator, and get the fucking blood in him!"

Finally, one of the nurses stopped helping everyone else with setting up monitors and fetched the bags of blood.

Chapel arrived with the cardiostimulator, once again placing the pads over Jim's chest.

McCoy grabbed a hypo a slotted it with a new vial, "I'm pushing adrenaline," he announced, injecting it into Jim's vein.

Chapel cleared her throat, "Shocking!"

Everyone stood away from the table, the first jolt of electricity sending Jim's back arching, then thumping back onto a table.

"No change," she announced, "McCoy start compressions, Nurse Li push more adrenaline."

McCoy pushed off the slight irritated feeling he had from being told what to do, and stepped back to the side of the table.

Quickly, he placed two hands on top of each other over Jim's chest and started compressions. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Two units of O-neg going in now," a doctor announced from the side of him, but he was too focused on compressions to care.

"Going again," Chapel warned, gesturing McCoy to stand away, "Shocking,"

Another stomach twisting _bang_ and Jim's body jolted off the table again. This time, the screeching stopped, but the other various alarms were still heard.

Before McCoy had a chance to celebrate his resuscitation, he ripped the pads off Jim's chest and yanked the tray of instruments over.

"Carpul, make sure he's under," McCoy ordered, picking up the laser scalpel and hovering it over Jim's chest, waiting for the sign. He watched the anaesthesiologist return the mask to his face, while another injected Propofol into an IV line.

But the doctor shook his head, looking confused, "It's not affecting him sir. I tried gas earlier and it didn't do anything so we've given him an IV sedative too and there's no reaction."

Frowning, McCoy quickly ran through the reasons in his head.

_He didn't respond to it while on the Romulan ship either._

_It's happened before with the parasite._

_The Romulans were responsible for the parasite._

_They must have done it again._

"Okay, he doesn't have to be unconscious, but make sure he can't feel anything,"

The second that the doctor nodded confirmation, McCoy turned his attention to his patient and began to make his incision.

......

Three hours later, and the surgery was still going.

"Need another unit of blood," McCoy announced, beginning the incision over Jim's abdomen, "This one should be a lot easier as I managed to cauterise it when we found him," he stated, placing the instrument aside, "Clamps"

As McCoy insert the clamps, there was a low whine coming from Jim. McCoy bit his lip, _he can feel this?_

"It's alright Jim," he sighed, wishing it was over already, "You're doing really well kid,"

Another long moan muffled by the mask, and McCoy rolled his eyes, turning to his assistant surgeon, "This shouldn't be too hard compared to his chest, can you take over?"

"Of course," she offered, reaching for the instruments.

McCoy replaced his latex gloves and shuffled the stool next to Jim's head, so he could see him if he wanted to. He took Jim's hand in his, squeezing it for reassurance.

Almost instantly the rapid panicking heart rate slowed down.

"Atta' boy," he muttered, rubbing a thumb up and down his wrist. Jim seemed relatively comforted by it, for now.

He continued to mutter reassurances and a calm voice for Jim latch onto for the rest of the surgery.

.....

Jim's real awakening post-surgery was a slow one. He drifted from semi-conscious dreaming to full consciousness four times before McCoy had given him an adrenaline shot and waken him up properly.

"Jim?" he heard from the other side of the galaxy. He wanted to touch the voice. It was familiar and nice to listen to.

"Jim, I need you to wake up properly, come on kid," the voice urged him. Jim felt something warm on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Come on Jim, open your eyes."

There was a cool object on his wrist, and then a sudden sharp sting before he was thrust back into alertness.

_Shit!_

_Where am I?_

_Who the hell is he?_

_Why can't I move my fingers?_

_Why am I so tired? Have they drugged me?_

Jim rocketed upright and rapidly analysed the room.

"Whoa, hey, it's alright, lie back now, Jim," the voice from seconds ago was back, but it was next to him this time and not far away, a hand pressed against his chest, another one on his back. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach; he wanted to recognise the man that held him but couldn't.

_Fuck, these guys must be friends of my torturers._

Jim grunted, writhing around trying to get out of his captor’s grip.

_Where the hell am I?_

Using his arms, he pushed off the hands that were practically attached to his chest. They only reappeared again, and Jim let out a cry of distress.

"Jim, it's me, it's McCoy, calm down buddy," the traitorous voice said. The name McCoy sounded familiar.

_Perhaps they wiped my memory of his methods of torture from that mind sifter!  That's why I don't recognise anything!_

With a sharp inhale to collect strength, Jim wrenched his arm around as hard as he could, walloping his lying captor right in the face. There was a red mark where his hand was. He only wished he could feel his fingers-- a fist would have been better.

The man stared at him in shock, before standing up to grab something. Jim watched him breathlessly, before returning with an object that Jim recognised the Romulans used to induce seizures in him.

_Hypospray._

_No!_

Jim shuffled away, again using his arms to wack the captor's hands off of him. The man looked tightlipped now, it was obvious he was intending to hurt him.

So, he wacked the hand from the bottom up, sending the hypo flying across the room.

" _Jim!_ " the man shouted at him angrily, before calling for backup, "Nurse!"

Jim suddenly squeezed his eyes shut-- _fuck_ , pain in his chest, it was throbbing constantly. His captor had managed to shock him.

He let out a cry of pain, curling in on himself.

"Ah, god damn it Jim," the voice violated his sensitive ears, "Look what you've done!"

He whimpered at the relentless pain, before several pairs of hands grabbed him under his armpits, under his knees, and gently lay him back down straight.

His head met the pillow and he screamed.

"His oxygen stats are low, he could be delirious," the familiar voice boomed from above him.

He wriggled and tossed his head from left to right, before a firm warm hand grabbed his chin and forced his head upright, stopping any movements. He wailed from the intrusion, but another firm hand pressed a mask over his mouth and nose, a gush of air hitting his face. Then he realised be couldn't breathe, he was suffocating!

Jim writhed around, kicked, thrashed, screamed and cried, but none of the hands would let go of him.

 _"Arrgaaah!!"_ Jim screamed in frustration, panting to get his breaths in.

"Jim, you need to take slow deep breaths" a strange voice said, "You're having a panic attack."

Jim wrenched his eyes open, seeing for the first time just how many people were standing over him. Six of them, all staring down at him.

One of them gestured for the rest to leave, and as they did, that one man's hands were on the mask instead, his face offering warm genuine smiles, not the sick twisted one he was used to.

"Here," Jim realised the familiar voice belonged to this man who was standing over him. His hand was grasped, gently pulled over to his mask, "Wanna hold it instead?"

Jim snivelled, but nodded. He couldn’t use his fingers, but he _could_ put pressure on the mask to make it stay in place.

Jim continued laying there, while the man told him to take slow breaths, before he felt himself calm down.

"Now," the man wandered off from his line of vision for a moment, Jim started panicking again.

"Don't--don't electrocute me! Please!" his cries muffled by the mask, "I'm sorry I attacked you! Don’t!" Tears were flowing from his eyes now, and the face returned, although a lot lower. Jim moved his head to the left so he could face his captor, but the man had only concern written on his face.

"Jim, I'm not going to hurt you,"

Jim sucked in a breath, his back was tingling already, "Please!"

"Hey," the man wheeled closer on what looked like a stool, and Jim jerked back in fear.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you, kid," a hand was grasped around his arm, a thumb rubbing in circular motions. He recognised it somehow. Jim inhaled, shuddering, terrified that the man would hurt him.

"It's alright darlin'" the man muttered, continuing to rub circles into his arm. "Who do you think I am?"

Jim swallowed hard. Would he be punished for saying he was a bad man?

"Tell me the truth Jim, tell me why you're so scared?"

Grinding his teeth together, Jim let out a shaky exhale, "I.... you're..." his lips trembled, and the man nodded for him to go on, "Y-you're the guy they sold me to so you can t-t-t-torture m-me r-r-right?"

He bit his tongue. He was so dead now.

The man glanced up at him in shock, he looked... hurt? But not angry?

"Jim. You're safe. You're on the Enterprise. We rescued you from Nuvak and I've just performed major surgery for eight hours straight to save your ass."

A feeling in Jim's gut began to swell. Was he telling the truth?

"I don't understand..." he whispered.

There was a sigh, before the man whipped out what looked like a PADD. Jim sniffed.

After a while, the man turned the PADD around, which had pictures of a prestige looking room, with a massive screen. It had space everywhere.

"That's the bridge," said the man.

Jim nodded, "Looks familiar. But bad familiar," he moved his arm to his stomach to rub the nausea building there.

"Didn't someone hold me captive to the floor there?"

The man's face contorted to such a deep frown, Jim was sure his eyes were going to fall out.

"No Jim, that never happened. You own this ship."

Jim blinked slowly, "Whaaa?"

The man grunted and turned away for a second, holding up a device. Jim's heart raced,

"What's that?"

"It's a medical scanner," the man glanced from the scanner back to Jim, "Just makin' sure you're okay."

Jim nodded hesitantly. This entire situation felt bad.

"Why do I feel like everyone is about to hurt me. Why am I scared of everyone and everything? Why don't I remember anyone," his breath grew more rapid, "I don't understand!"

The man placed the scanner down and grinned, "I think your previous captors have done something to you as a method of torture, tell me, what's the last thing you remember before waking up?"

Jim's eyes met the floor. "Umm..."

The last thing he remembered was being gagged and shoved into a mind sifter. Screaming, crying, then nothing.

He didn't know how to put it in words. His eyes welled up with tears.

"Hey, hey," the man scooted closer, wrapping arms around him, Jim tensed up but let go when no pain came. "Just try to relax, I'm gonna find out what's going on, alright?"

Jim nodded and pulled away, breaking contact with the man.

"Don’t know if you remember this, but you usually call me Bones," Bones said. "You can take off the mask, I'm happy with your oxygen stats."

Jim instantly wrenched it off and wriggled under the blankets.

Suddenly he felt much safer.

.....

 

**A/N: Can anyone guess why our Jim is acting unlike himself? :--)**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Ravenclaw - Poor Jim indeed... Unfortunately for him, I like to constantly put him in situations involving hurt :-)** _

_**redford - Keep that in mind, it might just be true...** _

 

McCoy watched Jim curiously, but only with medical curiosity. The young man was drifting in and out of consciousness; whenever he was close to sleeping, he'd jerk right back awake again.

_God damn it._

Wanting to figure out why, McCoy decided he was going to take some blood, assuming it was something chemically that was causing this, as nothing showed up on the scans.

"Jim," McCoy spoke from the side of his biobed, "Need you to wake up for a second,"

Jim blinked tiredly, his eyes drifting around, trying to focus on McCoy.

"Ahhhhh..." Jim slurred, shutting his eyes again.

Squinting, McCoy tapped his cheek, "No, come on you moron, wake up." he ordered, taking out the hypo to draw his blood. Pains lines started showing up on Jim's face, he was groaning.

"Urrggghh..." Jim's hand fell onto his stomach, squeezing his skin tightly.

"Something hurting?" McCoy queried, stepping back to Jim and glancing at the bio readings.

_Pain indicator slightly increased._

"Stomach..." Jim grunted, gritting his teeth and moaning, "Mmmmrrghhh..."

_His skin is turning paler._

Placing the hypo aside, McCoy pulled the blanket covering Jim's body back, "I'm gonna take a look okay?" he said, grabbing a scanner without taking his eyes off Jim, "Take your hand away," he said, noticing Jim's hand was still grasping his stomach. Sluggishly, the hand retreated, so McCoy pulled his gown up. Jim shifted and squirmed.

"Stay still Jim," he murmured, hovering the scanner over his abdomen.

"But it hurts!" Jim whined, flopping his head back against the pillow.

"I know, uh..." he gazed at the readings, frowning and looking back to Jim. His breathing was getting more laboured.

_Not a simple stomach ache then. Typical._

"Muurrggghh...." Jim was moaning from lips that were only slightly parted. His complexion was now grey, his breathing beginning go make wheezing noises.

Jim's head lulled to the side.

_Damn it._

"Jim? Stay awake kid, I know it hurts," McCoy urged him, readying a hypo of adrenaline.

He grabbed his comm and flipped it open, "Chapel I need you in here, now," he shouted authoritively, grabbing old fashions scissors and ripping the rest of the gown off to save time.

Chapel stormed into the room, "What's happened?"

"There's a minor bleed in his chest, I need to insert a drain," he stated, nodding to a tray of instruments just out of his reach.

Chapel instantly ran over and dragged it over beside Jim's bed, picking up a scalpel, "He's this bad from a minor bleed?"

McCoy grumbled something under his breath, snatching the scalpel from her,

_Damn Romulans must have hit him with a bloody sledgehammer._

"Lift his arms behind his head," he said, grabbing a stool with his free hand and rubbing the side of Jim's ribs with his thumb, "He's weak from what's happened, at this stage you can give him out of date fruit and he'll pass out," he retorted, watching Chapel move his arms.

"Nnngghhh...!" Jim moaned with more urgency.

"I know, just hold on, kid," he muttered, giving him a local anaesthetic, carefully making an incision on the side of his chest.

When the procedure was done, Jim's tensed muscles promptly began to relax, he gave a sigh of relief.

"Now, before you get comfortable again, if that's even possible with a drain, I need to take a lil blood," McCoy decided to ruin the moment, picking up the deserted hypo, "Arm." he ordered, hand outstretched to receive his limb.

Jim scowled, but did as he was told. McCoy was starting to like Jim this way.

...

Three days passed without much event. Jim slept most of the time, what with Bones' never-ending supply of hypos.

But Spock had other news.

At 1900 hours (7PM), the PADD on Bones' lap chimed, jolting him out of his nap. While on duty.

 _Damn it, when was the last time I got some shut-eye?_ He thought to himself, blinking from the eye-blinding contrast of the screen against the blackened room.

Upon focusing on it, there was an alert, telling him he had a new message, from Spock.

He was never one to use PADD's to contact people though, so McCoy's first instinct was to subconsciously remember the last place he put his med kit.

But the subject of the message was "Private consultation."

He pushed aside the thoughts of him laying injured somewhere, then.

_Sender: First Officer Spock._

_To: Doctor McCoy_

_Message:_

_Doctor, I have received some news from Starfleet that only the highest authorities of the Enterprise are to be informed about. Is it possible to meet with you in your quarters at 2100 hours?_

 

McCoy squinted at the message that was obviously hiding something.

 _Why couldn't they just get a damn meeting altogether?_ He complained to himself.

But, he accepted the request anyway.

 

_Spock, yeah just meet with me in my office, not in my quarters, I'm working late with Jim tonight._

_McCoy._

 

"Informal as ever," he muttered to himself, reading over his message. But who cared, he was a doctor, not a secretary. Words and emails didn't matter.

"Mmmmgh..."

McCoy's eyes snapped up at the moan from beside him. Jim was wriggling under the covers, immediately reaching for his neck that McCoy constantly jabbed at whenever Jim woke up.

"Dun' hypo me," Jim slurred, eyes still fluttering in an attempt to open. McCoy grabbed a pen light and shone it in his eyes, earning a whine and more fidgeting.

"Not gonna, I want you to drink this," he said, placing the pen light aside and reaching for a cup of water made especially for Jim an hour ago, "Try to swallow this down."

Jim eyed the cup suspiciously, but let the tip press against his lips to sip some of the water.

But then he made a disgusted face and spat it out. " _The hell's this?"_ he gasped, water spraying from his mouth across the room.

McCoy rolled his eyes, "It's a sedative... liquidised."

Jim threw the cup at him with spite, hitting McCoy on the legs; he scowled as it rolled across the floor. "I don't wanna be asleeeeep," Jim complained, falling flat onto the bed with a thump and making whining noises at the back of his throat.

"Shuddup, you do more damage to yourself now than you do on your away missions, and that's saying something,"

Jim squinted, "Away missions?" he asked, as if the concept was unknown to him. McCoy hesitated, then nodded.

"Yeah, it's--" he froze and sighed, "Ah forget it," he flapped his hand in dismissal, walking away to fetch his unruly patient more liquidised sedatives.

"Hey," Jim called from behind him. McCoy grunted for him to continue. "How come you don't give me those... shots?"

"You mean hyposprays?" McCoy turned back around, cup of poison in hand, "You get upset with them, you infant." he passed the cup to Jim, who twisted his nose up in disgust, "That's foul!" he cried, deciding to place it on the tray next to him. "And upset how? I throw the hypos at your legs or something?" he teased.

McCoy pursed his lips, shaking his head, "No Jim, you uh..." he paused, then rolled up his left sleeve for Jim to see. There were raw teeth marks around his wrist, swollen and red.

"Oh...sorry," Jim whispered, looking defeated now.

 _Short term memory loss?_ McCoy noted to himself. _The kid had only bitten him an hour ago._

He looked at the clock; 2100 hours.

_Damn it, late again._

McCoy grit his teeth and spun back to Jim, "I have a meeting with Spock. Stay put or I'll hypo your backside so hard you won't be able to twitch," he teased, quickly stalking out the door before Jim could come up with a sassy remark, "Christine, I've got a meeting," he called to Chapel.

"I can handle it in here," she replied, so McCoy took off down the corridors, leaving medbay in her capable hands.

...

Upon entering the room, everyone was sitting down staring at McCoy as he walked in. Everyone, being just Spock and the admiral. Admiral Pike.

He glowered, offering a slight shrug, "Sorry," he sighed, taking his seat, "Got caught up with Jim."

Spock bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"Actually, Jim's the reason why I'm here," Pike announced, "McCoy, I know this is gonna be hard to take in and all, uh..."

McCoy huffed, "Just spit--...” he paused, “Carry on, admiral," he managed to stop his retort from coming out. Jim and Spock might tolerate his feisty attitude but an admiral sure as hell won't.

"Ahem," Pike cleared his throat, "Starfleet has decided to remove Jim Kirk of his command, placing Spo--"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" McCoy shot up from the meeting table, staring daggers through Pike.

He caught sight of Spock looking... unamused.

"McCoy," Pike warned him in that demanding tone, "He's been unfit for duty for three months, that's more than enough time to declare him unfit to command the ship, full stop."

McCoy bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from blurting out profanity.

"So, we just stop off at Earth, toss him off board and fly away?" McCoy was seething with anger right now. This was the last thing Jim needed.

"We're planning to transport him to a proper medical facility on Kabis III, unless he really wants to go back to Earth."

McCoy inhaled sharply, "He's just been tortured by Romulans, damn it! Taking his command away for good is gonna ruin him!" he yelled, uncaring of _who_ he was telling at, "What even are you doing about those Romulans anyway? I've heard nothing!"

Pike stood up to face him, clearly trying to hold in his own building anger, "We're not taking it away for good, just until his health is back in order," Pike replied in a low tone, "And we're dealing with the Romulans, we'll let you know once we have more news."

McCoy's fingers were gripping so hard on the back of his chair that his knuckles were turning white.

"And if it's okay with you, as Jim's friend, I wondered if it's okay to see him?" Pike's voice dropped to a calmer tone, trying to avoid making the situation even worse, as it heated as it already was.

McCoy rolled his eyes, sighing at the situation, "Yeah, don't stay in there too long," he muttered, slumping over the back of the chair.

"Lemme go in and tell him you're coming in first, he gets startled if ya start popping open a beer bottle these days," he mumbled, gesturing for Pike to go first.

Spock continued sitting in silence in the background.

_Probably contemplating whether this betrayal is logical._

_Like hell it is!_

...

"Okay, hold on," McCoy told Pike, just outside Jim's designated isolation room.

He wandered in, then froze at the sight he saw. This wasn't Jim having a seizure, falling out of bed, or even engaging in another round of vomiting.

This was Jim sitting up in bed, licking an ice popsicle and beaming.

With Chapel standing next to him.

"The hell? He couldn't move his fingers a minute ago!"

Chapel chuckled to herself, "I gave him the popsicle as motivation to practice moving his hands. Looks like it's fine when it wants to be," she remarked, watching Jim, amused.

"Glad you’re entertained” McCoy grumbled, “Jim-- god damn it, get that popsicle out your mouth, Pike’s here to see you!"

Jim's eyes drifted to find McCoy's, "'ike?" he slurred, his tongue stuck to the ice. "I nont remneger hin!"

McCoy scowled deeply at that. "You don't remember Pike?"

"Nawoo" Jim gaped, saying what was supposedly 'No'.

He made a mental note to himself, _I'll run a bunch of tests later_.

"Get that damn iced stick of water out your mouth, Jim!"

The kid's eyebrows furrowed, "I 'tuck"

McCoy folded his arms, "What?"

"Toticle it 'tuck" Jim's tongue was basically glued to the ice.

Resisting the urge to slap him, McCoy gripped his wrist and yanked it back, promptly wrenching the kid’s tongue away from the ice. Jim beamed in astonishment.

"I don't believe this," he muttered under his breath, Jim still studying the popsicle like it was some surreptitiously contained secret with magical powers and hidden properties, "You're acting five."

Jim shrugged throwing the ice to the floor, watching it melt onto the marble.

Just then, Pike chosen that moment to allow himself into the room.

"Pike, I haven't told him about you yet," McCoy warned, glancing over to Jim, who had tensed up at the man who entered the room.

"It's alright, McCoy," Pike brushed off, approaching Jim as he pushed himself further and further up the bed.

"Jim, this is Admiral Pike," McCoy motioned to him. Jim's eyes were filled with horror.

"Hey son," Pike sat on Jim's biobed, sending him into wheezing fits.

"Go away," Jim squeaked through his rapid breaths. Pike looked taken aback, but smiled,

"It's just me son, it's alright."

Jim shook his head rapidly, his eyes finding McCoy's in a plea for help.

Quickly, McCoy stepped over to Jim, nabbing a hypo just in case.

"Don't," Jim exhaled, now on the verge of hyperventilating. Pursing his lips together, McCoy locked his gaze to Pike and shook his head.

 _Just get out before he gets worse._ He begged internally. But of course, Pike didn't get the hint, in fact, he wanted even more to get through to Jim.

"Reports have come in through Starfleet, said it was top priority."

Jim's eyes were glistening with tears, the kid needed away, and fast.

"Been through the crap a bit, haven't you?"

Jim remained frozen to the bed, eyes not breaking contact with Pike's face.

Eventually, the sudden outburst of an alarm blaring out the monitor, with the screen reading "Low Oxygen Warning" was the final straw for McCoy.

He licked his dry lips and tapped him on the shoulder precariously. Pike stopped talking midsentence, something about 'replicators', before turning to face the shoulder-tapper. He raised an eyebrow to McCoy as if to say, 'Well?’

"Sir...Pike, he doesn't recognise you, your presence is causing him severe anxiety, you need to leave."

Pike hesitated, but nodded slowly, glancing to Jim one more time before offering a smile and standing up to leave. "I'll see you later, son." the door swished shut behind him.

Silence flooded the room, before Jim rapidly sat up in bed and grabbed McCoy's wrist with alarming force,

"He was here to kidnap me!"

McCoy sighed, "No he wasn't Jim, he's a Starfleet Admiral… he just wanted to check in on you."

But Jim wasn't having it.

"He was going to take me back to my kidnappers, I know it!"

McCoy stomped over to Jim and leaned forward until he was practically nose-to-nose with him, “Jim!” he hissed through clenched teeth, “No-one is going to take you away!”

Jim's face grew red hot with anger, " ** _YOU’RE A LIAR!”_** he roared, lifting an arm and punching McCoy right across the jaw.

_Crack!_

McCoy's hand flew his jaw before the words could come out, the sudden onset of pain clouding his thoughts,

"Fuck!" he yelled, slamming a hand onto the bio bed to balance himself. "Ah-ah, ahh-fuck, fuck, ahh..." he clenched his jaw, his jaw joint sending pain through his face. "Aghh...christ..." he grumbled, wincing from attempting to shout a name. He tried again, "Chapel!"

"Bones..." Jim's quiet voice whispered from behind him.

McCoy's blood boiled at the name, "Shut up you idiot."

Chapel marched through the door, half expecting Jim to be lying half unconscious on the bed, but rather it was the other way around.

"Augh," McCoy rubbed the side of his face to get Chapel's attention. She turned to face him, squinting,

"What is it? You're hurt?" her eyes studied his face, paying particular attention to the slack partially open mouth.

"Aghh...m'jaw," he mumbled, giving Jim death glares, "Fuck... the kid hit me pretty... fucking hard--god!"

"Come with me," Chapel mumbled, but McCoy didn't budge.

"I think he dislocated my damn jaw... fuck!"

Chapel sighed, putting a hand behind McCoy's back and guiding him out the room, his hand plastered over his face and all.

Jim lay confused and in silence.

...

For the first time in his life, McCoy was the one sitting on a bio bed. Barring the physicals of course.

Not a time that he wanted to repeat again.

Chapel placed the regenerator aside, McCoy grumbling something under his breath. His fingers twitched and scratched against his palms, both trying to hold back anger and distract himself from the throbbing.

"Damn idiot," he managed to produce a coherent sentence, "He thinks Pike is his kidnapper."

It was true, Jim somehow managed to convince himself to perceive Pike as the monsters that held him captive, regardless of his calm demeanour.

"I'm getting concerned, Chris. He's forgetting the littlest things, he can't remember anyone but himself."

Chapel stopped herself from sighing, as McCoy would probably think she was being rude, "Then perhaps you should give him a more thorough exam than just asking him questions, doctor,"

McCoy's eyes darted up in thought, then gazed towards the door to Jim's room, "I think he's brain damaged."

The sound of angered clashing of medical instruments from behind him almost startled McCoy.

"You can't say that! He's been kidnapped and tortured, you can't assume that!" Chapel's tone of voice was much stricter than McCoy was used to; he raised an eyebrow.

"Chris, ever since we rescued his bratty ass he's been nothing short of terrified to every human being he comes into contact with!" he raised his arms in gesture of his frustration. Chapel took a breath to argue back, but stopped.

Every _human_?

"You know, you've just given me an idea." she pondered thoughtfully, gazing at the wall.

"Uh huh. And what's that?"

"Has Mister Spock tried to talk with him? I mean, he can mind meld, right? Couldn't he find out what's going through the poor man's head?"

McCoy let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, "Ahh... he's tried that already. Said he couldn't make contact."

Chapel sat down on McCoy's biobed, quickly running fingertips over the marks on his jaw from the closed wounds that the regenerator healed, before shaking her head, "If he can't get to Jim's consciousness, maybe it's too... broken to get to," she guessed.

McCoy scoffed, running fingers across his skin where the pain once was, "Broken? How can consciousness be broken? He's clearly awake and-" he slapped the side of his face, "Obviously can pack one hell of a punch," he furrowed his brows, sighing and drooping his head to the floor.

"Maybe you were right" Chapel muttered, breaking eye contact too and joined him in gazing at the white floor, "Perhaps he is brain-damaged after all."

Just then, the lights to sickbay flickered, McCoy and Chapel both looked up in time for the ship to make a loud concerning creaking noise as gravity shifted to the left, and went back to normal. A long low grumble of what sounded like the rumble of thunder came next.

McCoy cleared his throat at the silence that was sickbay, "Looks like Spock's gotten us into trouble," he muttered, grabbing his communicator to find out what was going on.

As he did, he noticed several pools of his medical personnel funnel into another room.

Jim's room.

He paused, lowering the communicator and shifted his gaze to Chapel, who was also looking at the commotion.

McCoy hopped off the bed, "What's going--"

A nurse's head shoved itself out the door, "Sir, you're needed in here."

McCoy picked up his pace and marched into sickbay, just as another low rumble boomed around the ship.

Jim was backed up against the end of his biobed, shaking and breathing rapidly. His eyes were slightly swollen and red, a clear sign he had been crying.

"Jim," McCoy exhaled, stepping closer, another loud low boom shook the ship. A loud gasp escaped Jim's lips, his eyes wild and searching the room.

"Jim, what's up kiddo?" He wasted no time grabbing a stool and sitting next to him, placing a hand onto Jim's wrist, squeezing it gently for reassurance. The thrum of Jim's rapid heartbeat pulsed under his fingertips.

"They found me!" Jim cried, attempting to yank his hand away from McCoy, "They're gonna take me back!"

"Jim," McCoy gently turned Jim's head towards his, "No one's found ya. There's just some damn turbulence because we've got a crap Captain."

 _Because you're not the Captain_ , he thought to himself.

Jim's blinked up to Chapel, who had walked in to help.

"You're here to take me away right?" he looked downright miserable, gazing at the ground and looking sullen. McCoy shook his head at Chapel; the kid was not doing well.

"I'm just here to see McCoy, Jim," she smiled, keeping her distance from him, knowing he was, somehow, afraid of everyone.

"Chapel isn't here to take you away, Jim," McCoy soothed him, offering a weak smile before turning his attention back to the nurse, "Chris, a word?"

She dipped her head, and McCoy stood up to approach her, both of them turned their backs against Jim as they spoke.

McCoy shoved his PADD in Chapel's face. "You see this? Yeah, there's been no physicals on him for a whole week." his gaze was harsh, Chapel knew this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation, "What if there's something causing his... delusions that we've missed?"

Christine sighed, taking the PADD and flicking around a bit, "Here," she pointed at the screen, McCoy peering in to see what it was, "I'm not signed on to care for him this week. It's you."

McCoy blinked slowly, running through both angry and embarrassed emotions.

He pulled a hand down his face and groaned, "Sorry Chris..."

She simply gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You're tired. Get some rest doctor, I can stay with Jim."

McCoy was hesitant, but hell, if he was the only doctor on the ship that were able to get anywhere close to treating Jim's condition, whatever it was, then they couldn't afford for him to be in anything less than perfect condition.

"Alright. You'll comm me if anything changes? Because so god help me if--"

" _I'll tell you_."

He scowled, murmuring curses under his breath, walking past her.

Though he couldn't lie, he was looking forward to catching up on long lost sleep.

...

Jim let out a long breath. His muscles felt rigid and stiff, as if he couldn't move, aching and burning all over. But with forced mental effort, his hands were weakly clenched and unclenched, so he concluded that he wasn't restrained.

He liked the feeling of being alert, being able to move... being conscious. His fingers slowly curled up, gripping onto the biobed sheets. He blew out another breath, becoming more aware of the sickness in his stomach. He breathed to keep it under control.

The smell of sickbay, or rather, quarantine, overwhelmed his senses; every inhale through his nose made him stomach bubble. The thought of pinching his nose crossed his mind, but that would take energy that he didn't have.

God, he was feeling so hot.

"James," he heard from above him.

Weird, Bones never called him _James_.

"Buh..." he swallowed, nausea threatening to rise in his throat, "...Bones..."

There was a series of loud beeping noises suddenly surrounding him, he cringed, gulping down more lingering bile and breathing heavily.  The noises made him feel sick.

"Doctor McCoy is sleeping, you've got Chapel instead," the voice returned, the bleeping noise disappeared, "That's me."

But the sickness became worse.

Jim breathed a moan through his lips, having to concentrate hard on keeping the contents of his stomach where it should be.

"You okay Jim?"

"Mmmmgghh..."

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Mmmmmhhh..."

"I can't help you if you don't tell me."

_Read your freaking monitor!_

"Wake McCoy,"

Jim's eyes burst open, and suddenly his retina was exposed to blinding white lights, he moaned louder.

_Don't wake Bones!_

"Tell me what's wrong, Jim."

He whimpered in sobs, clawing desperately at the sheets in frustration. Behind him, were the clattering of movement, and an all too familiar click of a vial slotting into a hypospray.

His fingers clenched the sheets so tightly that his hand was shaking.

_Don't get Bones._

"Muuurrghh Buuuhns" his tongue and slack, slow lips refused to work.

"What's that, Jim?"

_I can't speak. I'll throw up on your fucking face._

He let out another pitiful whine, which turned into a cry.

" _Boooonesss_!"

Chapel started walking away to the wall comm again, "It's alright, I'm getting Doctor McCoy now."

"Nooooo"

 _What's so hard to understa--_ His thoughts were interrupted when he vomited over himself without warning, taking him by surprise. As nurses quickly surrounded him, Jim coughed up more bile waiting around in his throat.

"Sickbay to Doctor McCoy,"

" ** _cough_** — _N-nooooo_!"

He wailed when a hypo was pressed into his neck unexpectedly, "Stop it... Bones!"

"Jim, you okay? The hell's happening down there?"

All McCoy could hear was Jim complaining followed by occasional gagging.

"He's just started throwing up, and was asking for you," Chapel explained, clearly not understanding that Jim didn't want McCoy being dragged back again. “Jim, don’t you recognise me?”

Jim sat up against the doctors' restraining hands and tried to shout across the room, but every shout caused him to vomit instead. Who were these people flocking around him like birds?

"Go awaaay!" Jim whined, suddenly finding that sickbay was moving in slow motion. Seconds later, Jim didn’t have time to complain as he fell back onto the bed against his will.

An alarm promptly sounded, and his biobed was soon pressed down flat.

"I'm coming down there," McCoy's voice said through the wall comm, but Jim’s heart was too unfunctional to care.


	17. Chapter 17

"I've been gone for five minutes, damn it!" Bones complained, storming into the room like a man on a mission. His eyes met with Jim's form, lying-- unconscious?

_What? He'd been trying to get Jim to sleep for weeks!_

Then he saw the monitor overhead.

Fatal Alert: Cardiac Arrest.

Without another word, he made a mad dash for the hyposprays, almost knocking over the trays on top of the trolley. His hands quivered, and internally he berated himself.

_Don't do this, god damn it, not again. Please._

Before he could return to Jim, his heart rate suddenly took hold again on its own, shooting up and out of control.

His back arched against the bed, teeth clenched and grinding together, every muscle in his body tensed, then dropped back against the surface of the bio bed.

After a few more seconds of staring eyes upon him, Jim's head wrenched back as he was thrown into a seizure.

"What the fuck?" McCoy shouted out in shock, quickly gathering his nerves to switch hypo vials.

Three nurses had Jim held down to the bed, pairs of hands across his chest, legs and arms.

McCoy practically leapt over and jammed the hypo into the first piece of accessible muscle he saw.

As the episode settled, McCoy placed the hypo aside, running a soothing hand through Jim's sweat-covered hair.

_What in the name of hell was that?_

McCoy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I want a full brain scan, get me an updated blood count," he barked, watching Jim's eyelids flicker, "And keep him in an induced coma."

"Oxygen saturation dropped, should I put him on oxygen?" a nurse said, scrambling to get the mask, knowing the answer.

"Yeah, and get me that damn brain scan!"

...

Forty minutes passed before Jim's brain scan was revealed. He frowned at the readings, running a finger down the screen in confusion.

_But this would signify bleeding, what the hell?_

"Doctor."

McCoy could recognise that voice even if he was in a coma, "I'm busy, Spock," he grumbled, peeling back an eyelid and frowning at the whites that stared back at him.

"It is concerning the Captain. I require an update on his condition."

McCoy scoffed, using his PADD to call a doctor. "Does he look that fantastic to you?"

Spock craned his head, and analysed Jim's state of unconsciousness.

"He does not appear to be functioning adequately."

This invoked McCoy to spin around and face the Vulcan, "Like hell he is! I don't even think he's functioning at all, damn it!"

Spock took a few steps closer to the younger man, "It would appear not."

The doctor that was summoned finally arrived, McCoy scowled without looking away from Jim, "Took your time."

"Sorry doc, I was dealing with another pa--"

"He needs a lumbar puncture, I think there's bleeding in the brain but I can't be sure."

Spock's head jerked up in response to that, "Bleeding, doctor? What is the cause?"

"Shut up," Bones snapped, gripping Jim's waist, then glancing up to the other doctor; "Get him on his side."

He obliged, but screwed his face up in thought, "Why a lumbar puncture? Surely there are less painful methods in this day and age?"

McCoy pressed his lips together, heaving out a breath of frustration through his nose, "He's in a coma, he won't feel it." Then he gazed over Jim's pale face, "Or at least that's my hope."

"You hope that he is in a coma?" Spock interrupted him.

"No, Spock!" McCoy yelled, "I'm hoping he won't feel the damn thing!"

"Is there not an alternative in the event that he does?"

McCoy wrenched Jim onto his side on his own, startling the other doctor, so he quietly bent Jim's knees up to his chest instead.

"One more word out of you and you'll know exactly what it feels like."

Spock opened his mouth to create another retort, but promptly closed it again. Pushing the good doctor after he began his threats was not most favourable.

McCoy pressed his thumb above the point where he was going to insert the needle, making sure of, by glancing at the monitors fifty times, that Jim was definitely asleep.

Then slowly, carefully, drove a long needle into Jim's spine.

His heart rate immediately staggered, then shot up to signify pain, and McCoy frowned deeply.

"He's supposed to be in a coma," he muttered, not taking his eyes off the needle. Fluid dripped off the end of the needle at the first attempt, he blew out a breath of relief. And blew out another breath when he discovered there was no bleeding.

"What the hell," he muttered under his breath, "Then what's that on the scan?"

He retracted the needle, bandaging his back and laying him back on his side.

"A fault with the machine?" The assistant suggested, picking up the PADD for himself.

"Dunno, but whatever it is, I can't tell whether he's conscious or not."

Spock remained stoically staring at the whole event.

"Fascinating."

McCoy slammed down his hypo onto a tray, twisting his body furiously to Spock, "This isn't fascinating, damn it!"

Spock bowed his head, "I merely attempted to convey that the situation is most interesting...medically."

McCoy stared daggers into him, but decided to brush him off. He had better things to do than argue with a machoistic psychopath who found a potentially dangerous situation with no known cause, 'fascinating'.

"What other scans have you performed since Jim came back from the Romulans?" his assistant asked him.

McCoy passed his PADD over to him, "None. But scans from before the incident show he was completely healthy, so whatever is wrong with him, was caused by them."

He sighed, giving a sympathetic look over to Jim. The monitors showed that Jim's activity was constantly rising and dipping, meaning he was trying to get out of the coma McCoy put him in.

He frowned, not even Spock could pull himself out from McCoy's drugs.

_Most of the time._

"S' raining..."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. Speaking of the devil.

He glanced down at the source of the voice; Jim. He was gazing half-lidded at the ceiling.

"Like the smell, Bones... so good"

McCoy grasped Jim's forearm, trying to grab his attention; it's not raining in space, damn it!

"Raiiniinggg" Jim slurred, sluggishly lifting an arm towards the sky, loosening McCoy's grip on it. He gently pulled his elbow down, gaining a confused look from Jim.

"You shouldn't be awake," he muttered, grabbing a pen light.

"Ahhhhh...." Jim sighed, his eyes drifting around aimlessly everywhere, "It's so cooold"

McCoy looked at the overhead readings; 101 F fever.

_Damn it all._

He practically yanked back Jim's eyelid and shone the pen light in his left eye.

"Aaaaahh... it's the suuuun" Jim slurred, his fingers moving around, "Booones!"

"Uh huh, it's the sun alright," Bones murmured, "Look at me?"

Jim's eyes did the complete opposite, "Ahhhhh.... aah...aaaahh" he moaned, his eyes rolling around in their sockets.

"The hell's wrong with you?" Bones grumbled, taking a step back from Jim's odd behaviour.

"Perhaps an infection from the needle point?" his assistant offered. McCoy nodded, grasping Jim's waist, "Alright, onto your side you go" he grunted, hauling him onto his left, allowing the other doctor to look at his back while he glared once again at monitors.

"Boooones" Jim whined the entire time he was maneuverered.

"No infection," McCoy's assistant declared, eying Jim's back from behind him.

"Boooo-ooones!" Jim called in a sing-song voice.

"Is there a bleed in his abdomen somewhere?" McCoy ignored Jim completely, and took another glance at the medical PADD they shared, but nothing conclusive came up.

"Maybe it's just the fever talking... we're paranoid it's something more serious," the other doctor said, placing the PADD aside.

"Bones?" Jim looked generally interested now.

McCoy let out a lengthy exhale, "Yes Jim?"

The blonde man continued to gaze at McCoy for a few more seconds before his eyes met another fellow in the corner of the room.

That man sat rigidly upright, watching every move of both Jim and the doctors constantly.

Jim sluggishly pointed at him, "Romulan"

For a split second, McCoy spun around on the spot, armed with a hypo, but sighed when it was only Spock.

"Damn it kid, you nearly scared the shit out of me," he grumbled, shaking his head and turning back to Jim, reading over the monitors again and again, even though they gave him the same results; he was in no danger.

He watched Jim's eyes narrow, the wheels and cogs turning in his head. The usual rapid thinking was now extremely slow. Finally, his gaze met McCoy's.

"He took me away" Jim stated blatantly, pointing at Spock again.

Before McCoy could respond, Spock beat him to it, clearly having overheard and was offended by the remark, "Captain, where exactly would I take you?" he stood up, looking quizzically at his ex-Captain.

Jim's eyes flashed from fear to horror to calmness again within seconds. He clamped his mouth shut and turned onto his side, so that his back was against Spock.

The Vulcan craned his head, "I am unsure of what actions I have committed that would cause this behaviour against me," he questioned, draping his arms behind his back again.

McCoy bit his lip, and walked to the other side of Jim's biobed so that he could see his patient's face.

"Jim, what's up? What's that green-blooded imbecil done to you now? Apart from being a pain in my backside that is."

Jim shook his head, holding an index finger up to his lips.

"Be quiet? Are you telling me to be quiet? Why you little--"

Jim shook his head again vigorously, his eyes filled with dread.

_The hell's wrong with him?_

"Alright, I'll shut up, but only because you look like you're about to burst into tears if I don't."

So, he grabbed a stool and sat beside Jim, occasionally giving glances to Spock, who could only see Jim's back.

But Jim's face looking on the verge of tears didn't change. In fact, his eyes were starting to water.

Sighing, he placed a hand over Jim's shoulder, squeezing it for what he hoped would be interpreted as comfort.

He peered in closer to his face, Jim's eyes didn't meet his like he supposed they would.

"What's Spock done, kid?" he muttered into his ear, hoping Spock wouldn't overhear. Glancing over Jim's shoulder, the Vulcan was still sitting stoically in the corner of the room.

Suddenly, McCoy's ears picked up the increased rate of beeping surrounding the biobed. Jim's heart rate was elevated, and the tensed muscles that protruded veins under his wrist showed just that. He started wriggling uncomfortably under the blankets, and McCoy tried to sooth him with a comforting hand over his squirming torso, but he refused to lie still or speak, his eyes locked onto nothingness, clearly preoccupied by something else.

"Jim," he urged a reply from the younger man.

Then, thankfully, the kid's eyes finally drifted upwards to face McCoy.

His lips trembled as he tried to gather a reply.

"My back," Jim croaked out, continuing to wriggle around despite McCoy's attempt to hold him.

Narrowing his eyes, McCoy shifted himself into a standing position and gripped his shoulder and torso with both hands, "Roll onto your side." he ordered with more vigour than intended.

But it didn't seem to phase Jim, as he very slowly, delicately, hauled his exhausted muscles into working and pushed his body onto his side, gripping the edge of the mattress for support, as if he couldn't hold himself up.

" _Good god, man,_ " Bones growled from behind him, running a finger down a long cut down his back, "Where the hell did you get these?"

Jim uncomfortably shifted, wanting to get onto his back again, "He hit me" Jim whispered quietly, shell of the man he once was.

"Who? Spock?" Bones glanced up at the Vulcan, who was now preoccupied by a PADD while sitting in the chair. Why the hell didn’t this other doctor say anything? He was staring right at his back a few minutes ago!

Jim, who was facing the same side Spock was visible on, shook his head.

"No, it was another Romulan, he whipped me a lot" his voice was tiny, like a child getting into trouble with their parents.

Bones' forehead creased, and began fumbling around in his med kit, "They whipped you? The hell for?"

Jim's fingers balled into a fist, "I don't remember!" he squeaked.

McCoy sighed, "Alright, alright, just stay there," he muttered, finding something to treat the shit all over the kid's back.

Jim obeyed, continuing to observe Spock's every movement. He wasn't Jim's captor, he knew that deep down, but Vulcan ears looked like Romulan.

Jim jumped at the sudden cold moisture being rubbed onto his back.

"Sorry," Bones mumbled from behind, "Just numbing it up because God knows you cry like an infant."

If Bones had noticed Jim's pouting at his words, he didn't say anything.

……………..

Jim quickly grew bored waiting for Bones to finish treating his back. One unexpected jolt of pain after another soon made him miserable.

"Booones" Jim whined with his eyes shut, in a long and drawn out way.

Bones didn't answer, he was busy.

So, after a few seconds, Jim clenched his fists, "Booones!"

"Jim--"

" _Booooooones_!"

"Jim, I--"

"Boooon-"

"Shut up! I'm tryin' to concentrate!"

The kid stopped his complaining and continued glaring miserably into the distance while Bones poked and prodded with instruments he likely didn't need.

_I bet he's just having the time of his life._

"Stop sulking, ya infant, I can practically feel the miserableness radiating off you."

Jim scowled, but blinked slowly, noticing how tired he was becoming.

"Tired" he muttered, just about managing to part his lips enough for a coherent word to come out.

"Almost done, Jimbo," came the voice from behind him, "Can ya feel that?"

Shortly after, Jim winced at a sharp pain in his back, "Gah--fuck! Yes!"

The sound of instruments clattering onto a table came next, "Just makin' sure."

Of course he was. _Of course he wasn't just trying to hurt him as a joke._

He let his gaze drift into the distance.

 _Or was it really a joke?_ he wondered. _Why would he joke like that?_

Jim didn't notice being manoeuvred onto his back again, or the distant increasing heartrate.

_What if he really was my kidnapper?_

His eyes drifted to the side, noticing Spock talking to McCoy.

_What if they're really all Romulans? That quiet guy is a Romulan._

He let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes.

_Christ, Jim, stop being so moronic._

_Stop overreacting to every. fucking. thing._

Jim grit his teeth and began panting heavily through his nose.

_You're Jim fucking Kirk._

_Pathetic. You're being pathetic._

He didn't notice McCoy appearing in front of him.

"Jim?" the face hovered above his, "You okay?"

_I would be if you didn't fucking kidnap me you piece of shit._

"Whoa Jim, calm down," McCoy warned, glaring intensely at the overhead monitors.

_No, I'm not and it's your fault you son of a bitch, who else have you kidnapped?_

His heart was in his throat, blood rushing through his ears. He paid particular attention to the pulsing in his head, a loud heartbeat he couldn't ignore. He swore it was getting louder, and louder.

"Jim, hey," the face looked concerned now, his eyes were full of worry. It was obviously false. A show that was put on, or fear only for being caught out. A hand grabbed Jim's wrist, he flinched and couldn't stop himself from emitting a low whimper.

_Shut up, Jim._

"Jim, you need to calm down," McCoy was telling him, who obviously didn't want his pathetic science experiment to find out the truth. The hand on his wrist moved towards his own palm, rubbing a thumb firmly in circles.

"Come on, kid, remember those breathing exercises I taught you at the academy? You had a real anger issue, I'll tell ya that," McCoy tried to drag his memory back, but Jim had no recollection.

"Ac-c-a-ademy? Pfft," he scoffed through rapid breaths, "You're a bad l-l-l-liar," he sucked in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. God, he couldn't breathe.

_Idiot._

"Sure, Jim. Come on, breath in for five seconds, and out for five seconds, okay?"

_I'm not five, fuck off._

"In, and out, with me, come on," the man ushered him, but Jim didn't want to comply.

Sighing, the ingenious McCoy shook his head and left his line of sight for a second.

_Thank god. Maybe now he knows that I see through his--_

And returned with a hypo in hand.

Alarmed, Jim jolted upright and pushed away the threatening hand that held the hypo,

"Sit still, damn it!" McCoy grumbled, struggling to keep the kid steady.

" ** _Nnnno_**!" Jim shrieked, banging his fist into the kidnapper's shoulder.

" _Jim!_ " he roared, returning with a look of vengeance on his face.

Jim felt himself pale-- McCoy had the same expression that his tormenter had when shocking him.

With absolutely no more barriers left up, Jim fell onto his back and started screaming like a threatened wild animal, flailing and smacking anyone who dared approach him.

The kidnapper above him grunted, "Nurse!" he yelled, grabbing Jim's wrists and pinning them above his head.

He felt himself hyperventilating, his arms were bursting to move and the room was zooming in and out. A second and third face appeared, from whom Jim never knew as his vision was too blurry, but he quickly decided they weren't on his side when there was a sharp sting in his neck.

An unhappy whine escaped his lips when he lost the energy to fight the hands that had him in their hold.

"Just relax Jim, it's alright... ya god damned idiot."

Jim blew out a frustrated breath, but it winded him more, the feeling of sleep overpowering him.

The weights on his wrists were released, but Jim didn't care as he was dragged half asleep and half awake.

_You’re still an idiot._

...

McCoy rolled his eyes, slamming a hypo down onto a tray, "The hell was that about?"

He pursed his lips while gazing at Jim's half-conscious form, frowning when he realised Jim was still squirming.

"Winters?"

"Panic attack, what brought it on?" Nurse Winters spoke up. She was one of the two nurses in the room.

"Started after I finished using the regen against his back. Got worse when he saw me with a hypo. This is a whole new damn level of infancy." McCoy stepped beside Jim, pressing back his eyelid with his thumb. Sluggishly, Jim's pupil drifted to see McCoy.

"You really can't sleep, huh." he declared as a matter of fact. He slipped his hand into Jim's, very slightly aware of its trembling, then dragged over a stool with his free hand, and sat down beside the man looking half-lidded at him.

"Mmm...B'nes..." the kid slurred.

"Stop tryin' to speak, you sound idiotic."

"M'srry..." Jim took a deep breath, closing his eyes, "Hmmmmm..."

Bones smiled at the kids strange humming, and squeezed his hand for reassurance, "You go pull a stunt like that again and I'll get Spock here to read you a thesis on photon particle displacement" he teased, a nagging feeling telling him that his small remark would scare the kid, but to his relief he only chuckled half-heartedly.

"Captain, I am more than willing to--" Spock began,

"Shut up, Jim doesn't need an additional reason to fall asleep, do you Jimbo?"

Jim rolled into his side, "Mmmnooo" he muttered in a sing-song tone, clearly trying to stay awake. Spock sat back down, looking rather frustrated with the doctor.

McCoy knew he had to get the reason for Jim's alarm out of him as soon as possible. Lucky for him, he was also an accomplished psychologist.

"You still with me, Jim?" he asked him, five minutes later.

A loud moan almost made him jump.

"Jesus-- okay, I'm gonna get Spock over here to talk to you," he said, glancing up to an intrigued Vulcan, "Come on, Spock."

Perhaps a talk with the guy that scared the crap out of him for some reason would give McCoy the answers he needed.

Jim lazily slumped his head to the side, his eyes following Spock's every move.

"M'tired" Jim sniffed, shutting his eyes when Spock got within arms length.

"I do not intend to tire you, Captain, I shall make my leave," Spock turned around to exit before McCoy practically grabbed him, causing the Vulcan to flinch, but he didn't care. Obviously, Spock could sense that his presence was difficult for Jim.

"Oh no you don't. You're staying right here."

Jim's heartrate began climbing, much to McCoy's dismay, "Booooon--"

And promptly threw up over the sheets.

_Damn it._

He sighed, "Winters, get someone to clean that up."

A quick nod and she hastily left, along with the other nurse that did absolutely nothing but stare at them. What an excellent asset to sickbay.

"Sorry" Jim muttered, wiping his lips on the blanket. McCoy grimaced, but shrugged it off.

"You gonna tell me why the hell you see Spock here like a killer whale sittin' on your back porch? Cause you're sure as hell acting like he is."

Jim uncomfortably started shifting further and further down the blankets, until eventually his eyes were the only thing peeking out. McCoy held back the urge to laugh; he was acting ridiculous.

"My Joanna acts older than you," he retorted, yanking the blanket back, which earnt a yelp from Jim, "Jus' tell me what the hell the problem is so I can actually do something to fix it."

_Just tell me. Please. I can't let my damn walls down for you while Spock is in here._

Jim's fingertips brushed along the blanket with an outstretched arm. He damn well wanted that comfort back.

"Please..." Jim's eyes were almost pleading, and it made McCoy's heart sink. The kid was showing signs of self-protection; something that happened sometimes after abuse. The sheet was his comfort blanket, literally, and he didn't want it taken away from him, as if it left him vulnerable.

Sighing, McCoy gave into the begging and dumped the entire sheet onto him, leaving Jim to scramble it back over his head.

He turned to Spock, who was observing him like a zoo animal.

"Fascinating. I have never encountered this behaviour in humans before."

_Don't shout at him. For the love of God, for Jim's sake, don't shout at him._

Taking a steady breath, he focused on staying calm, "Spock. Why don't you leave Jim and I alone for a while? Go memorize the entire Vulcan dictionary or something," he suggested, straightening his shoulders to show authority.

Spock craned his head, "I already have, doctor."

McCoy rolled his eyes, "Of course you have, should've known. Now go."

Spock hesitated, but after another glance at McCoy's rapidly raising left eyebrow and his close proximity to a hypospray, he decided it was logical to leave the room.

As soon as the doors hissed shut, McCoy let out a resigned sigh of relief.

"Okay kid, just you n' me now, you can come out of there."

There was a strained muffled whine from under the blankets.

"Spock's gone, Jim, it's just us."

The figure under the blankets continued trembling. McCoy gently pressed a hand on top of where he guessed Jim's head was, earning a shout and the large lump flinching away.

McCoy gently pulled the sheets back, revealing Jim curled up in a ball, quivering like no tomorrow.

"Christ..." Bones muttered, inching closer and wrapping an arm around Jim's shaking body, "It's okay, kid, it's okay..."

Trembling fingers crawled away from Jim, searching for something to latch onto. Bones carefully took his hand, squeezing it tightly and pressing the skin against his chest, willing for the hand to stop shaking. He frowned at the situation.

_This is not the Jim Kirk I know._

_God damn it. I need answers._

"Jim..." he mumbled under his breath, checking around him in case anyone was watching, "Darlin', I need you to tell me what you're thinking right now."

The hand that McCoy had pressed against his chest tensed up, its fingers curling around McCoy's own palm.

"He put me in a machine..." a little voice croaked out. Bones sat in silence for a while, wondering how to approach the topic further.

"What machine, Jim? Tell me what happened?"

Jim choked out a sob, and McCoy bit his lip. Verbalising his experience out loud must be a huge burden for him.

"Bones..."

_No, we're not changing the damn subject._

"C'mon Jim, speak up."

Seconds later, he watched Jim's face scrunch up as tears squeezed out his eyes, the pale complexion of skin turning beetroot red.

"Ah Christ..." he sighed, "Alright, kid, it's okay..."

Jim's body trembled more violently as sobs wracked his body. McCoy rubbed a hand up and down his curled back, noticing how thin he was getting.

But he was a doctor nonetheless, so patting Jim's back wasn't going to heal him.

"What happened in the machine, Jim? What did they do?"

The younger man remained silent, his body suddenly now rather slack and unmoving.

"Jim?" he urged him.

If he could just get an answer...

But Jim continued gazing half-lidded into oblivion, his heart rioting in his chest.

Out of ideas, and needing answers now, he decided to try another approach.

"I'm gonna get Spock back in here, okay?"

He waited for an objection, but there was none.

So, he took out his communicator and invited the Vulcan back in.

_If I can't get any answers, maybe the hob-goblin will._

........

"Doctor, what you ask for cannot be done." Spock stated, looking quite determined to not do as he was asked. McCoy gnashed his teeth in thought.

_God damn it, do you enjoy seeing Kirk like this?_

"Spock, I can't get a word out of him, and if I don't know what that machine did then I can't help him. A mind-meld is our only option." McCoy retorted back. Spock didn't seem to like the mind-meld idea, obviously seeing Kirk half-conscious, scared for his life and delirious was too _fascinating_ for him.

"Doctor, even if I tried the meld, all other attempts have failed thus far as I have yet to get through to him. There is a seventy-five-point-nine percent chance that it will once again fail."

McCoy scowled, then turned back to Jim. "Okay. Jim, Spock's gonna meld with you, whatever that is, and you gotta uh...let him in, alright?"

Jim shifted nervously and shook his head no. Spock took his place next to Jim anyway. "It will not cause harm to you, Jim," he assured in what could be classified as a soft tone.

Jim's body relaxed, but his eyes were still full of distress.

Spock tried again, "What is it that you are afraid of? I cannot view memories that you do not wish for me to see."

Jim visibly swallowed hard and nodded.

"If I tred in an area you are not comfortable with, imagine a closed door and I will not enter."

Jim sat in contemplative silence for a while, then looked up to McCoy standing next to him, and nodded his consent.

The doctor rolled his eyes in relief, "Thank god, I was starting to worry if the hobgoblin was gonna go insane just looking at him trying to be sensitive."

Spock sharply turned to his head towards him, "Sensitive, doctor? I assure you I was only attempting to encourage the Captain into a mind-meld for the sake of his health, as it is my duty to--"

"Shut up, Spock, just do the damn meld already!" McCoy borderline yelled at the defensive Vulcan.

Spock's eye twitched in irritation, a _human_ emotion which only frustrated him further, but turned back to the Captain, reminding himself to control all emotion before attempting the meld.

McCoy edged to the head of the bed, "I'm gonna lie you down Jim, I dunno if this is gonna make you uh...tired," he refrained from using the word _faint_ , as he'd probably interpret that as Spock being a threat. And he needed that damn information.

So as Jim was lowered down flat, he twitched with his fingers anxiously, trying not to make eye contact with Spock.

Then, a gesture that not even McCoy expected; Spock placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, using a firm but reassuring grasp.

"You must trust me, Jim." he muttered quietly.

This seemed to help, as there was a small quirk of a smile forming on his lips and a slight nod.

Almost instantly, Spock began slowly placing fingers delicately over Jim's face, pressing into each psi point and shutting his eyes, being careful not to startle him.

Such delicacy was rare with Spock, it was obvious to McCoy that despite the Vulcan's stubborn exterior, he still cared a lot about Jim.

McCoy watched as Jim's heart rate slowed down, the incessant beeping gradually returning to normal. His fingers uncurled and turned limp, his floppy palm facing the ceiling.

McCoy didn't trust that Vulcan voodoo much, but at this point there was nothing left to help Jim.

Then all of a sudden, a voice made him jump.

"Jim, you must allow me to enter." was spoke more monotonous than he thought was possible.

Jim's palm turned down towards the bed mattress, dragging backwards along the sheets in frustration.

Spock's face was beginning to show signs of stress, so McCoy tried to intervene.

"Jim," he spoke softly, "Let him in."

"Grnnnn..." Jim grunted breathlessly, his heart rate increasing again.

"Jim." Spock pushed his fingers with more pressure, earning a squeal from Jim and McCoy to tense up.

"Spock!" he glared at Jim's heaving chest, "You're hurting him! Let go!"

"I cannot begin the meld until his mental shields are decapitated."

Then, McCoy did something he swore he knew he was going to regret the second it waltzed into his mind. Seconds later, a hypo was jammed into Jim's neck, causing the young man to shout out, but soon fell limp and gaping from what was going to be another cry until the sedative dragged him under.

Or, as under as Jim's body would let him be. The only time he was truly unconscious was when his heart stopped, and that scared the doctor.

Still, Jim was weakened and Spock had relaxed, meaning he was finally able to meld with him.

_I'm gonna regret this, I'm sure of it._

_The kid is never gonna trust me again._


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey guys. Sorry for the late update, but hopefully as this is longer than usual it'll make up for it. I'm on holiday for the next week so there will be another late update after that. Enjoy!**

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Jim swallowed hard against the pushing tides of emotion flooding past him. Emotion that was not his, emotion he could not control. Flashes of horrible images shoved into his mind like a tsunami; memories clear as day of being strapped down and screaming, as the other creatures in the room tried to force an answer out of him.

Memories so vivid of being forced into a seizure that the blinding pain tore through him like being on fire, the flames rippling and burning his skin, as if it was all real.

It stopped, and then he was being whipped. The procedure was repeated, another seizure tore through him and he couldn't help but scream.   
Distant soothing emotions brushed over him, telling him that it was okay and that he would not be in this state forever. He knew it was from Spock.

He felt locked in a dream, unable to escape. This Vulcan was holding him captive there, storming through his memories and sending waves of horror through him.

No doubt, the feeling was Spock's, and was uncontrolled from the mental barriers being dropped in the meld.

 _Please stop,_ Jim pleaded a message to him. _I don't like this._

It felt like forever until his plea was answered, _I understand your difficultly, but I must review the complete incident._

Jim swore he accidently let out a whimper in reality, but couldn't be sure.

Another image flashed before him; he was bound at the wrists and being dragged over to a machine, locked in and being glared at mercilessly by the villains before him. Then, suddenly, a flash of white light, and he screamed, and screeched, as the seizure ripped through his body and wracked him.

He was lost to the world.

......

McCoy overheard Jim's whimpering, and quickly stepped over to the side of the biobed, taking his hand, muttering reassurances and hoping the kid could hear him, if that was possible. Who knew how completely detached from the universe this meld made him.

Then suddenly, out of the blue, Jim's hand tensed up so hard that his fingernails dug into McCoy's palm, beginning to draw blood before he wrenched it away.

Bones swore under his breath, and watched as Jim's body arched into the air with his tensed, strained muscles. A scream erupted from the kid's mouth before he fell limp and burst into a full-blown seizure, monitors coming to life and screaming for attention as Jim's limbs vibrated against the bed.

"Shit," he cursed again, grabbing the hypo ready for action on a try and clicking in a muscle reactant, jamming it into Jim's thigh as his neck was intruded with Spock's arms.

The seizure quickly came to a halt with one loud thump, and Spock jolted away from the biobed, almost falling backwards, out of breath and eyes wide open in horror.

"God. Okay, Chris I need you in here!" he called for Chapel, wrapping two hands under Spock's armpits and guiding him onto the end of Jim's biobed to sit down.

Chapel walked in as calm as usual, immediately spotted the two men and Spock's almost-panic-attack.

"The Captain--Jim--they wanted--" he inhaled sharply, all hope of keeping that Vulcan pride forced out of him.

Bones sighed, "It's okay Spock, Jim's okay. He's just shaken up, he'll be okay."

"I almost wish I did not intrude on the Captain's--gasp--memories... I..." Spock dipped his head towards the ground and shook his head, deciding with what little logic he had left, waiting until he had calmed down would be a more sufficient time to speak.

It took a few seconds for Spock's breathing to even out, as McCoy waited patiently for him to come to his senses. For his sake, McCoy didn't say a word to ruin his pride.

Finally, the Vulcan spoke.

"I apologise for my outburst doctor... I did not believe what I would see would be so... disgusting."

Bones offered a half-smile and stood back up to check on Jim. "It's alright Spock, gives me some kinda idea of what shit he's been through."

Satisfied with the calming bio monitors, he turned back to Spock, "Care to elaborate on what happened?"

Spock stood up from the edge of Jim's biobed and intertwined his fingers behind his back, "The contraption that Jim refers to as 'the machine' was a mind-sifting object of the Romulans that Jim became victim of. If I recall correctly, they attempted to implant fear of us and the Federation in his mind, and return to him at a later date to collect him, in the belief he will be too afraid of the Enterprise to stay."

McCoy couldn't help but stand mouth gaping at Spock's conclusion.

_What the hell kinda fucked up being would do that?_

"And the seizures?" he dare asked.

Spock seemed to contemplate this for a while, before he craned his head and turned towards Jim, "I believe the seizures were a result of the machine. It could have damaged his mind, although even I cannot be certain."

McCoy nodded slowly, taking in the new information and began pacing around the room.

"So, what, he's under some kind of spell? A drug? And that doesn't say anything about why I can't sedate him properly!" Bones threw his hands up in frustration, glaring narrowly at Jim's quietly moaning form.

What he would give to be able to sedate the Captain. His friend. He hated watching him suffer everyday because he couldn’t get him to sleep!

"While in the meld, I discovered that the Romulans had... incapacitated him on a table." Spock's fingers fidgeted with nervous energy, as if itching to perform another meld.

Bones grumbled something under his breath, clenching his fists.

"Uh-huh. You mean they tortured him."

A few moments of silence between the men.

"...Precisely."

Another awkward silence between the two, before Spock's monotonous voice reverberated across the room,

"And what of the Captain being enabled rest? If you cannot sedate him, how could he sleep?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow at that observation; he'd spent all his time worrying about Jim's memories and did nothing to help the fact that the poor kid couldn't sleep.

"I honestly don't know, Spock," he shook his head, "I've never paid mind to it."

He noticed how Spock's fingers twitched, then must have realised as they were then curled up behind his back.

"I have a suggestion." Spock snapped McCoy out his thoughts.

"Yeah? What's that then?"

"I believe if I could meld with Jim, I can force his mind to, in your vernacular, chill out."

McCoy held himself back from laughing.

Never in a million years did he think the Vulcan would say that.

"Sure, if you can get him to open up to ya."

Spock looked almost shocked, "You have no objection to a mind meld?"

McCoy shrugged and glanced over to Jim, who's head was inching around the pillow.

"If he doesn't enter REM sleep soon, he's gonna start hallucinating,"

Then an unexpected voice.

"Uuugghh"

McCoy darted his head 180 degrees to face Jim, who was now clearly wide awake. So, he approached him with a dozen scanners.

"Hey kid, you alright?"

Jim grimaced, and sluggishly slid his arms down his torso,

"Stomach hurts..."

"Hm." McCoy took his PADD which had resided on the nearest tray and began reading the reports of the last time he was fed.

_Two days ago._

_Shit._

_This kid has to eat something..._

"Think you can try eating proper food now or do ya still need the IV?"

Jim stared blankly at him, then his eyes fluttered shut again.

"No, Jim--" he bent over and shook him gently, "Don't go to sleep, stay with me kiddo,"

Jim's half-asleep body obeyed, keeping one eye open and gazing dull blue at McCoy.

"Don't wanna eat..." he mumbled, shifting back under the blankets again.

McCoy scoffed, "Alright, IV it is then. Nurse Chapel, give Jim one line of--"

"Okay! I'll eat!" Jim yelled over the doctor's voice, clearly defeated. McCoy however looked smug and rather pleased with himself.

"Good," he dipped his head with a smile, leaving the disgruntled Kirk alone for a second while he fetched something for him to eat.

......

Jim watched McCoy return with food, and for once the scowl was on his face, not the doctor's. He didn't want to eat, just the thought of digesting something made him want to throw up. So, when Bones returned with a bowl of vanilla cake, he was surprised.

"Junk food, Bones?" he retorted, immediately tearing the food apart the second the bowl was place over his table. There was _definitely_ something healthy stuffed inside this.

However.

_No hidden salad. What was going on?_

"Are you okay?" Jim asked with confusion, "Or am I okay?"

What if something was really wrong with him and Bones wanted to cover it up?

"Nothing's wrong Jim, but you've lost a bit of weight, and an apple isn't going to put it back on." Bones was glaring down at his PADD in deep thought, sifting through what was probably allergy reports.

"I'm not allergic to cake, Bones" Jim picked up the knife and hovered it over the bowl. "Why a knife and spoon, and not a fork?"

"In case you needed to cut it up," Bones was still staring at the PADD. The hell was he looking at? "And hell yeah you could be allergic to cake. But you're not." McCoy finished his analysis and dumped the device on the table, "So eat it."

Jim sniffed, and continued hovering the knife over what was likely going to be thrown back up anyway. There was a lump in his throat, a bubbling anxiety, but he didn't know why.

"Well? You gonna eat it or am I gonna have to spoon feed ya?"

Jim slowly shook his head, noticing his hand were quivering. The grip holding the knife tightened around his fist.

_Give me a shuttlecraft or I will surely hurt you._

Abruptly, Jim threw the knife to the side with a sharp inhale and hugged his arms around his torso, panting from the sudden flashback.

Bones had just about missed the flying knife in time, immediately swiping a nearby sedative and stomping over to Jim.

"No, no-- don't!" Jim breathed, squirming away from the contraption. Bones glared intensely at Jim for a few more seconds before dropping the hypo onto the tray.

Jim brushed his fingers brushed across his neck, feeling for the cuts that were once there.   
Thin lumps were all that remained.

"The hell was that about, kid?" Bones gently asked him with concern, watching Jim's fingers dance over his throat.

Kirk scrunched his eyes shut and flopped back on the biobed, heavily exhaling to control himself. "Won't happen again."

....

_ Three days later. _

Jim was laying content on the biobed, in no pain at all. He was happily drugged up to no end after repeated complaining and whining to Bones to the point where the good doctor just gave in.

The only time he had got some decent rest was if Spock melded with him and forced his mind to relax. Although, he did hate it, and it would always take serious convincing to allow Spock to meld with him.

So, he was pretty happy having just awoken from sleeping for the first time in days. Dull blue eyes were slightly brighter than usual, gaining a spark that would likely disappear within a few hours.

The moment was ruined by McCoy ramming his eyelid open.

"Rise and shine, kid, you got a physical in five minutes,"

A blinding white light from a penlight burnt his retina.

Jim let out a long loud groan of dismay.

"But I'm sleeping!" he whined, slapping an arm over his face.

"Not anymore you're not. Need help to wake up?" McCoy stood over him with a hypo full of adrenaline, making Kirk cringe inwardly.

"No thanks..." he muttered, manoeuvring himself on top of the blankets on his own.

_To hell with it, just get the damn physical over with!_

Jim walloped an arm outstretched to the side, "Here's my arm," he mocked in a sing-song voice, "I'd give you my leg to prod around with but I can't move it." Jim's brain wandered back to the many therapy sessions he had.

His arms were saved, but his legs were still stuck.

McCoy looked up from his PADD and frowned, "Still? You still can't feel your legs after all this time?"

"No, I..." Jim felt a pang of fear hit his gut. "Does that mean I'll... never walk again?"

McCoy's tensed lips softened and shook his head, "I can fix that Jim, god knows how long it'll take us, but I can fix that. I promise."

There was such sincerity in his voice, that Jim almost believed him.

"Bones... you can't fix this. If you could I'd at least have some _feeling_ in legs by now."

McCoy frowned at him, then picked up his PADD, "Hold on, gonna do a quick scan."

Jim wanted to groan for an excessively long amount of time at the thought of it but didn't have the energy to make the noise.

_I'm going to be decommissioned._

_I can't Captain a ship like this._

"Just as I thought," McCoy announced from his PADD, slinging it to the side, "Damage to the spinal cord, and I can fix that," McCoy lied, wanting to give some hope of a diagnosis to Jim.

Jim felt himself grow enraged.

"Wait a minute, you could just scan for the problem the entire time and only now you realise it was my spine?"

McCoy sighed, "Jim--"

"You made me deal with that... excruciating pain in my legs in therapy... for nothing?"

"Jim, I couldn't--"

"You fucking liar! You wanted to see me in pain! What are you, a machoistic psychopath?"

McCoy's body just went lax at this. He knew Jim's outburst wasn't going to settle anytime soon, so he might as well let him get on with it.   
False hope was better than no hope. Or at least, that was what he told himself.

"You know what-- I'm done playing games with you, Bones,” Jim spat angrily, “You can't cure me, and I know you're helping those Romulans, pretending you care when you don't, especially with nothing at all being healed.... it makes sense now."

Bones seized Jim's wrist, "Now wait just a damn minute!"

"You're keeping me here until they come back!" he yelled, trying to sit up but failing with the doctor's strong hand holding him down.

"Jim, listen to me, you need to calm down--"

" _I fucking hate you!"_

That hit Bones' harder than he thought it would. He swallowed down a knot in his throat, "Jim... you've got this wrong, kid, I couldn't detect it before because the injury--"

" ** _YOU FUCKING LIAR!"_**

Jim bolted upright and clawed at the doctor, attempting with any strength left in his broken body to hurt him in anyway he possibly can, but it would never make up for the torture that Bones put him through. He rammed an elbow in his stomach, causing Bones to stumble backwards in shock, and almost buckle under the winded feeling in his chest. His face was riddled with terror over what Jim had done to him, was he really that far gone?

Sluggishly, Bones took out his communicator, and hailed main sickbay, "I need... I need..." but he was too out of breath to form a sentence, his legs turned to jelly and he collapsed onto his knees. The communicator dropped to the floor, and he stared at it for a second before turning to Jim, pleading;

"Jim... please, you need to... keep... your heart rate... down..."

He sucked in a breath, and at the same second, three doctors darted in the room, two of them heading straight for Jim.

"I've got McCoy," the final one said, kneeling down to Bones heaving on the floor.

"You okay?" she muttered, analysing him while the other doctors pinned Jim down to the bed, regardless of his ear-splitting screaming.

McCoy nodded, "Just a lil out of breath...uh... he elbowed me."

"Let. Me. **_Go_**!" Jim roared from the bio bed, eyes rolling around the room rapidly. McCoy stood up, brushed off the helping arm from the doctor and stumbled back over to Jim, knabbing a hypo on the way.

"We'll talk later Jim," he exhaled, turning his friend's head to the side and ignoring the screaming piercing his skull. As he was about to push the plunger down, Jim's hand wrenched back and broke free from its restrained grip, grasping McCoy's wrist and forcing his hand back, shaking from the sheer struggle he was in.

"No... hypo..." Jim breathed, only just about managing to gather the strength to keep McCoy's hand at arms length. The other doctor's hand grabbed Jim's arm in an attempt to pull it off McCoy's, then everyone ended up wrapped in the struggle to get Jim sedated.

McCoy grit his teeth at the strength he tried to gather, failing miserably. But the hand gripping his own was finally yanked away, so he swiftly twisted Jim's neck to the side, resulting in a loud cry of distress. Except this wasn't an angry cry, this was a fearful cry.

_God damn it, Jim._

Gently, he pulled Jim's head back to face him, and sure enough there was hysterical terror in his eyes. Sighing, he nodded at the other staff to let him go, placing the hypo aside.

"You can go, I've got him. Thanks."

They turned to leave, and immediately after the door hissed shut, McCoy knelt beside Jim's bed, wrapping his arms around him, a gesture he rarely did.

"I'm sorry-- I'm sorry-- I'm sorry--" Jim gasped in short breaths, clearly terrified, "Bones-- what's--what's--what's ha-happening to m-me?"

Bones run a hand through Jim's damp hair, rubbing up and down his arm with the other hand.

"It's okay darlin', I know you're scared," he muttered, glad no one else was here to see him act so gentle with a patient. His reputation would go out the window.

"I'm--I'm sc-scared, B-Bones" Jim's body trembled against McCoy's arms, tears pooling out his eyes.

"I know kid, I know, it's gonna get better, I promise," he lied. McCoy had no idea if it would get better.

"What if they find me again?" Jim choked out, his tears leaving stains in McCoy's blue Starfleet shirt. Bones sighed, running his hand gently through Jim's hair again.

Going by the bio-monitors, the contact seemed to calm him.

"I'm gonna talk to Starfleet, okay?" he made this up as he went along, having no idea what to do, "They'll protect the ship, maybe take you on board a Starbase and keep you safe until the Romulans have stopped chasing us."

Jim shook his head, "I don't wanna be molly-coddled up in some Starbase, I want to Captain the Enterprise!" Jim cried, lifting his head to glance up at McCoy. The kid's eyes were bloodshot and swollen, glistening with tears, his face burning beet red.

"I'll talk to Starfleet, Jim," McCoy repeated, pulling him close again, feeling Jim's arms practically vibrating against his skin.

_Damn, the kid needed a sedative._

"Why don't you have a nap while I find Spock and speak to command, okay?"

Jim's body suddenly tensed up in his arms, "Don't sedate me, Bones..."

_Well, there goes that plan._

"Wasn't going to," he lied, "Just close your eyes and try to rest, I'll tell you if I have news, alright?"

Jim nodded sluggishly against the messy blue shirt, his fingers tightening around the fabric in a death grip.

McCoy maneuverered his left hand out of Jim's grip, stretching his fingers out and inching towards the communicator in his pocket. When he received it, it was a struggle to flip it open with Jim's body weight literally all over it.

"McCoy to Spock," he barked, immediately moving his other hand to Jim's face, peeling back his eyelids much to the kid's annoyance.

"Bones!" Jim yelped, scrambling to get off him. Bones smiled when Kirk's grip on him was pushed away, allowing his almost numb body to recirculate itself.

" _Sleep_ ," McCoy mouthed to Jim. He pouted, but obeyed and silently shut his eyes.

......

"How is he?" Spock asked upon arriving to Jim's designated room.

"Alright, now that you've settled him," McCoy replied, tossing away the PADD and headed for the door with Spock, "If you didn't have that mind voodoo thing he'd be as intelligent as a brick right now."

Spock craned his neck, "Intelligent as a brick? Impossible, as bricks--"

"It's a joke, Spock. I meant he would have been pretty much dead meat right now, staring at nothingness, unresponsive, you know?"

Spock slightly dipped his head in acknowledgement. McCoy guessed he still didn't understand but didn't have the guts to admit it.

"When've we got a date with the admiralty?" he asked instead. Spock looked at him quizzically, probably wondering what the hell McCoy meant by having a date. But seemed to have got the message eventually,

"They are waiting for us in the Captain's quarters."

McCoy nodded slightly; they hadn't been in Jim's quarters for a while.

Upon approaching, only one admiral was present in the Captain's quarters. It surprised McCoy, as he supposed that they'd communicate through on-screen transmissions.

_But whatever floats their boat._

"So, Admiral..."

"Admiral Banyan," she completed, standing up to greet them. Spock was faster and practically lunged in front of McCoy to greet the admiral first; he scowled at him behind his back.

"Admiral." Spock greeted curtly.

"Mister Spock," she turned to McCoy, "Doctor McCoy."

McCoy's lips twitched into what could be called a half-smile and sat down, Spock and the admiral following after.

"Gentlemen," Banyan began, taking out her PADD for observation, "You sent a sub-space message to Starfleet Command asking for protection for the Captain and his ship," she swiped through more texts displayed on the PADD, the two men wordlessly watching her, "Doctor, you say that the Captain has been paralysed from the waist down by the Klingons and Romulans after a... second kidnapping?"

McCoy leaned forward, propping his head up with a hand under his chin, elbow on the table,   
"Yeah, the first time they stuffed him with a chemical in his head, the second time he was paralysed. His spine is clear and his arms and hands have started working again but his legs aren't budging. Starfleet took him off command."

Banyan placed the PADD down, looking remorseful, "I see... and why have you not tried to warp away to another sector?"

Spock straightened up, "We have attempted to escape numerous times, but a Romulan ship always seems to find us."

Banyan raised an eyebrow, "But in McCoy's report, you were being followed by a Klingon ship?"

"Both are following us. They're working together." McCoy spoke up. Banyan scoffed.

"Klingons and Romulans working together? A wild accusation!"

"Spock's acting Captain logs confirm that!" McCoy almost yelled, "...Ma’am."

Banyan paused and seemed thoughtful for a little while, before heaving a sigh and picking up the PADD again.

"Have you eliminated the possibility of a tracking device?"

Spock and McCoy exchanged looks, before McCoy shrugged,   
"Uh...no.” he stated bluntly, “We've noticed they can track where we warp off to and compensated for that... but not a device?"

Banyan nodded and passed her PADD to McCoy, "These are the scans you have sent to Starfleet Medical, correct?"

McCoy blinked a couple of times and pretended he hadn't memorised Jim's scans by now, "Uh... yeah."

Banyan cleared her throat, "And there's nothing there?"

McCoy could tell you that there was nothing there without looking at them. "Nothing shows up on the scans, I've done four different tests and everything comes back negative."

The PADD was snatched from McCoy and back into Banyan's hands, "Have you considered doing a deep scan? An invasive one? Level 8 perhaps?"

McCoy folded his arms, "That would take hours!" he spat, "You know from my report that Jim can't stay still for five seconds, let alone five hours!"

The admiral chose to ignore the obnoxious remark, passing it off as understandable frustration, "I presume you've heard of sedation?"

McCoy's scowl could have killed anyone that he met eyes with, " _Yes_ ," he growled, "But it's not effective with Jim. The Romulans forced him into a mind-sifter and made sedatives useless," he explained with as most calm a voice as possible, "It'll help him to calm down but it won't put him to sleep."

Banyan narrowed her eyes, "Why'd they do that?"

McCoy threw his arms in the air, "How the hell should I know?" He caught Spock's warning gaze; probably a good idea to not shout at an admiral. If he got booted off the ship then Jim would surely die. Right?

"Sorry," he muttered under his breath, "I think they uh... reprogrammed his body to reject the components in sedatives that affect his central nervous system," he declared, "Or some of it anyway, evidently he's still able to be somewhat tranquilised."

Banyan stared at McCoy and pulled a face unknowingly. Clearly trying to translate medical jargon into English.

"Uh... yes, McCoy, of course," she turned to Spock and smiled, changing the subject, "I hear you have been enabling the Captain to sleep?"

"Correct," Spock's mouth formed into a smirk and craned his head to McCoy, "An alternative, as the doctor's methods are useless."

McCoy slammed a hand down on the table, "I hardly have any choice in the matter you green-blooded twerp!"

Spock sat up, "Untrue, doctor, for you have always--"

"Enough!" Banyan yelled, shutting up the quarrelling voices in the room. All eyes lay on her.   
"Doctor McCoy, perform a level 8 scan on James Kirk and report back with your findings. I have been advised by Starfleet Medical, after going over your results, that it is entirely possible for the Romulans to somehow hide a tracking device in Kirk's body in one instance where they had a hold on him."

McCoy nodded slowly, letting out a quiet but exhausted breath, "It would explain why they're constantly able to find us..."

Spock evened out his shirt, "Obviously, doctor."

Banyan stood up abruptly before another argument took place, "You have your orders, now carry them out!" she announced, grabbing her PADD and tucking it under her arm.

Spock and McCoy nodded, quietly muttering things to each other under their breath as they left.

"Oh, and McCoy?"

McCoy spun around to face the admiral.

"Good luck. It sounds like a tricky case."

McCoy allowed himself to quirk an eyebrow and offered another dip of his head, hurriedly leaving the room to run more scans in sickbay.

......

Sounds were the first thing Jim was aware of as he was coming around.   
A constant low, pulsing, thrumming from above him. His face felt hot, although a small breeze over his skin made it more tolerable. Perhaps the pulsing noise was a very large fan?

It was a struggle to open his heavy, tired eyelids, only a second passed before he felt he had to shut them again.

A blurry massive blue circle covered with more circles--lights, morphed above him. He noticed the humming was matching the lights; as the noise grew louder, the lights got brighter, and as it faded quieter, the lights dimmed.

Jim watched the brightening and fading above him for a while longer before his brain decided it had the need to find out why it was doing that.

"Mmuhhh..." he groaned quietly, wincing at his voice sounding so distant.

Shortly after, a figure in a darker blue stood over him, blocking the view of the massive circle. He couldn't make out who it was, but judging by the outline of his features, the figure was scowling at him.

But Jim needed answers.

"Wha's 'appenin'" he slurred, rolling his head to the side but finding it only caused him to be dizzy. So, he stopped moving.

"You're in the middle of a scan, how're you feelin', Jim?" the voice was echoey and slightly distorted, as if he were dreaming, but somehow he recognised it.

It was at this moment when he realised his muscles weren't obeying him. He needed to sit up, to find out where the hell he was, but his body refused to co-operate.

He couldn't move. He was trapped!

"Wha' happen?!" he repeated with more urgency, his head rocking from side to side again.

A warm hand lay against his forehead.

"Easy, easy. I've got you in a full body restraint while we're scanning, it's totally normal that you can't move,"

Jim heaved out a sigh, sucking in another breath instantly after asking, "Why?"

The figure became sharper now, his eyes focusing on the person and realising it was only McCoy.

No Romulans, no Klingons. He was safe.

"I spoke to Starfleet and they suggest we did a deeper scan, in case the bastards can track you," McCoy explained. Jim focused intensely on his voice, the loud low humming of the big circle above him making it hard to hear.

"Wha'ssat?" Jim mumbled, glancing at the obnoxiously large circle. It unnerved him.

McCoy didn't even need to look up to know what Jim was talking about.

"That's the scanner. We're doing a level 8 scan; yeah, I know, we've never done it before on this ship, but they insisted. Besides, they could have a point."

Jim nodded, and tried to bend his neck forward to see what was stopping him from moving. A large cylinder was covering his body from his shoulders to his toes.

He gazed back up at McCoy.

"Take it off," he murmured tiredly, blinking slowly and relaxing into the pillow.

"I can't, kid. One slight movement and the whole scan fails. Usually you'd be sedated but uh, you know how that goes,"

Jim decided not to answer, and shut his eyes.

Looks like he'll be staying here listening to an annoying hum for a while, then.

"Sir?"

Jim blinked open his eyes at the voice, but found only McCoy walking to the foot of the bed.

Right, he wasn't the Captain anymore, he kept forgetting that.

………

McCoy had disappeared for a whole minute before returning to Jim, having what looked like a PADD in hand, slightly grinning to himself.

"...'ones?"

The PADD was thrust into Jim's face.

"See this?" Bones asked, a finger pointing at a blurry screen. It was a mess of colours.

"Wha...?"

A grunt, and then the PADD was taken back and messed with some more, before being shown to Jim again. Now it looked more like an X-ray.

"Look at this here," Bones pointed again, and this time, Jim could clearly see what at.

There was a very tiny, miniscule dot over layers of white and black.

"This is your left leg," McCoy tapped on the screen, enlarging the image, "This dot is what I could guess is a tracking device. It's been implanted deep inside your Soleus muscle, which is why we couldn't find it before," he then swiped across the screen a couple of times before an image that looked exactly the same came up, "And this is your right leg. Same thing, they chipped both legs."

Jim remained silent for a while, before gazing up at McCoy.

"Why?" he nearly squeaked out in such a vulnerable voice.

Bones tightened his lips and shook his head, "It's how they track you down. I'm gonna show Chapel and get a surgical team, alright?"

Jim nodded absentmindedly, not exactly taking in what was going on.

He watched Bones leave the room, feeling a little bit vulnerable being left in the room with a scary loud machine he'd never seen without him.

So, he continued to lay stiff-lipped and staring at the ceiling, as he really had nowhere else to look.

The low whirring noise made seconds stretch to minutes; he wanted to get out of there.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of waiting, a warm hand suddenly clasped around his left cheek, fingers gripping under his chin. Before he could react, an ice-cold metal pinched his neck, and instantly the room started to spin.

"Whaaa?" he slurred, trying to focus on something in the room. There was a loud clunk, and instantly he felt his body loosen up.

And then he was moving. Wind breezed against his face as the table rolled through the corridor.

" _Booooones_ " Jim whined, slipping his head to the side to find him.

"Right here, Jim," came a voice from beside him, a rather distant one at that.

Quite far away actually. Was he talking from the other side of the corridor?

"You... far'way" Jim mumbled, lifting a lazy hand and noticing how sluggish he was, " _Ahh…._ "

"I'm right next to you, Jim, it's the drugs that made you tired."

Jim flopped his head to the left and watched the walls and doors come and go.

"Where y'taking me?" he asked after a minute.

As if by coincidence, the trolley rammed into a door and Jim recognised it instantly.

He could recognise it with his eyes closed.

The ambient loud humming of many machines, several patterns of beeping and alerts along with the monitors making weird pitched sounds, the sterile smell, the sound of clattering footsteps. He'd heard it all before.

"Don't wanna be here" Jim murmured, as he was shoved next to a table. The other nurses grabbed him from under the legs and arms, hauling him over.

"It's gonna stop the Romulans from finding you, Jim. I'm gonna take out the trackers." McCoy's voice was a comfort over the other mechanical sounds of the operating room.

"But I don't wanna!" he moaned, his volume increasing with each word.

McCoy sighed and shook his head, nodding to the other bed-moving staff to leave.

Jim watched cautiously as another doctor he had never seen before grabbed each leg one after the other and placed it over a strange ledge, so that the large muscle under his legs were lifted upwards slightly.

"Wha'y'doin...?" he just about managed to form a coherent sentence. The doctor looked up to McCoy for an explanation, who twisted his lips for a reply,

"So we can get a better look at those legs of yours," he muttered, making Jim wince as he purposefully snapped on his latex gloves right in front of him, "Are you gonna question everything we do?"

Jim actually looked as if he were in deep thought, before shrugging and closing his eyes.

McCoy glanced over to Jim's face, analysing it for discomfort. He was uncomfortable and the lines on his face were etched with fear, so the good doctor bit his lip and looked to the other staff,

"One second," he muttered, striding to the other side of the room to reach the comm.

"McCoy to Spock."

A few seconds passed...

"Spock here, doctor."

"The admiral was right about the trackers, Spock. Uh, look..."

McCoy let out a breath, "Are you able to do that mind..meld..thingymajig on Jim? I have him in here but the anesthesia isn't working, like we suspected."

There was static for a while until Spock spoke up, "I can only initialize sleep in the Captain for precisely that reason; sleep. As with normal sleep patterns, he would wake up if his body sensed danger or was inflicted with pain. A mind meld would be useless."

Without even bothering to reply, McCoy grunted and ended the transmission, then slowly turned to his squirming patient.

"Okay, Jim, you're just gonna have to bare with me on this one," he muttered, heading straight for the hypos.

Jim seemingly heard as he just whined under his breath, sleepy and disorientated from the sedatives, but his body refused to drag him under.

Bones grabbed a hypo and turned to the other staff, "Give him 6mg of etidocaine to both muscles and 4mg of IV ketamine"

Jim watched as Bones casually jabbed Jim in the neck without a second thought. Was it really this normal to him?

Or maybe he just enjoyed stabbing people with hypos.

_What a weird--_

"AH!" He was dragged out of his thoughts when two pinches in both legs startled him.

"And put him on nitrous oxide for now," Bones added, and this time Jim was interested. He swore he heard that word before.

" _Booones_ " Jim moaned for no particular reason; it just seemed to roll off the tongue nicely.

"Booo-- ** _OW_**!" Jim whacked away the hand that practically rammed another hypo in his neck. Bones just smirked, and looked overhead at Jim's monitors.

"Ya should start feelin' more sleepy and weird now, just tell me when you feel it,"

Jim pouted, and settled with sulking while staring up at the pale ceiling. In fact, he began to admire the ceiling.

There were so many squares! Did someone place every single square on that ceiling? Or perhaps a mini-starship that placed the squares inside the big starship?

It was like fish and sharks. Jim liked sharks.

_I wanna go shore leave and meet some sharks._

Wait-what was that? Did the squares just move?

Jim blinked rapidly to clear his swirling vision, and the squares swirled too.

He broke into a massive grin and started giggling.

"Bones... the squares... moving!" his sentences took a long time to leave his mouth, it was like speaking in slow motion.

His beautiful vision of the squares was replaced by a scowling man standing over him, who was none other than Bones.

"Squares, Jim?" he questioned, sternly analysing his face so intensely that Jim was sure he was gazing into his soul.

Sluggishly, Jim lift an arm and lazily pointed at the ceiling, to demonstrate the work of art that were the squares.

"Oh," Bones glanced up for a second before offering a half-smile, "Sure, Jim. The squares are moving," the man then moved down to the bottom of the table again, allowing Jim to view the masterpiece above him.

As he watched the squares spin around, he heard Bones talk to him in the distance,

"You're gonna feel some pressure in the legs, alright? If it starts to hurt then don't try to prove yourself as a damn superhero; just tell me."

Jim pretty much brushed over the doctor's remark and gazed at the squared grid of glory above him.

"Kay," he offered a reply, paying no real attention.

Sure enough, there was quickly some pressure in the middle of his left leg accompanied by stinging. It distracted Jim from viewing the ceiling artwork.

"Feel it..." Jim's eyes gazed down from the ceiling to his feet. He could just about make out three doctors swamping around his legs, with McCoy armed and dangerous with a scary looking laser device.

Jim decided to distract himself by counting how many squares were on the ceiling.

"Bones..." Jim mumbled as a question opener, "The roof...really is mmm... magnum opus..."

He swore he heard Bones chuckle at that, which was unlike the grouchy man.

"I chose it myself," the doctor replied slowly, in deep concentration, "Use retractors on the incision here."

Jim rolled his head from side to side; he was so bored. Listening to Bones carry out the surgery only made him nervous, and counting squares surprisingly got boring after a while.

"Stem the bleed."

"Forceps."

"Cauteriser."

"Retractors."

Jim wanted to do something! Even without any feeling in his body whatsoever, he was restless. Eventually he settled with looking to the left and trying to name all the instruments on the tray before Bones called for them.

"I've got visual on the bastard, you see that?"

"Yes, sir,"

Jim's attention was brought back to the procedure, "Wha's'goin'on?"

After a very long pause of approximately seven seconds, Jim began to wonder if they heard him. He was about to ask again, when suddenly, completely out no nowhere, a rocketing, blinding white pain shot down his left leg, electing a scream of anguish from his mouth; it felt as if the inside of his leg was on fire.

"Okay, okay that's a good sign, you feel that Jim? Of course you feel that. Etidocaine wasn't enough, give him--"

Another spine-chilling scream was bellowed around the room, making McCoy's stomach drop.

"Uh-- Lidocaine, bupivacaine, now!" his heart raced in his chest knowing Jim was in such extreme pain.

The pinches of both hypos and their hisses were unheard of for Jim, what with the pain and his wailing playing a huge distraction.

Within seconds he felt his entire body sag, noticing it was beginning to make him struggle to breathe.

The adrenaline that gave him the energy to scream drained from him, and all he could do was moan with his eyes squeezed forcefully shut.

.....

McCoy watched Jim's laboured breathing for another thirty seconds before placing the hypos aside and almost tripping over the tray to get to a compartment in the wall.

Yanking it open and swiping some supplies, he almost forgot to remain in his professional-mode.

"Sir, his pain indicator is off the charts, should I give him another dose?"

McCoy stumbled back with a load of equipment in his arms, scattering them all over the tray.

"No, I want to risk general anaesthesia, can someone set that up, **_now_**!" and he darted back to the head of Jim's bed, worrying frantically over the monitors. His heart-rate was higher than he'd ever seen it before; any longer and Jim would likely go into cardiac arrest.

Another moan brought his attention to Jim's face, scrunched up and etched with pain.

"It's alright kid, gonna put you outta your misery in a sec," he muttered quietly.

Blue eyes cracked open at his voice, glistening with unshed tears.

"Bones..." was all he could manage. McCoy took Jim's hand in his, and brought it up to his chest. Jim's eyes suddenly squeezed shut again, a whimper escaping his tense lips.

"I know, I know it hurts, but it's a good sign. You can feel it, so that means we can still get you to walk again," then he sighed when the other doctor approached them, "Just focus on that."

The assistant gazed over at Jim solemnly for a second before shaking his head and turning to McCoy, "Intravenously or through gas?"

Jim's eyes shot open again, "Gas-gas-gas--no needles--no....no needles--no--no--no--"

"Through gas, Jim," McCoy confirmed, nodding at the assistant, who had begun preparing the mask already.

"What caused this?" he asked McCoy, tipping Jim's head back with his chin but getting a squirming man in result.

"Let me," McCoy intercepted, taking hold of Jim's head himself and pressing the mask to his face, "The trackers must have been laced with a paralytic drug to stop him from running away. When we took it out, all pain receptors fired up again and went crazy," Jim breathing was starting to even out, too, but it was unlikely they'd be able to get him completely unconscious, the other tracking device was still in him.

.....

"Let's get this other one out as quickly as possible," McCoy announced, ready to continue on. Jim was about as unconscious as he could get, but the pain indicator had dropped significantly, which was something.

"Whoa," McCoy peered in closer at the device, "You seeing this? There's tiny tubes running from the tracker into the muscle, almost like capillaries," he observed, changing the scale on his microscope, "It's pumping him full of chemicals I've never seen."

"I bet that's what's causing his reaction to sedatives. Or non-reactions, more like," the assistant suggested.

"Alright...." McCoy slowly said, "Demagnetize it, quickly."

"No!" a timid voice from behind him spluttered.

McCoy pursed his lips together and gave a slight nod to the assistant, then stalked back to Jim.

The kid seemed to be purposefully forcing himself to stay awake, the mask made him look small, but the lines on his face gave away the obvious pain.

"Jim," Bones began, standing beside his head so that the kid could clearly see him, "We're taking out the last tracking device, so I need you to--"

"No"

 _"I need you to_..." he sighed, why was it so difficult to convey the sentence? "I need you to be brave, Jim."

At that, the young man fell silent; he always used to be the strongest person out of everyone on the entire ship. It must have finally hit him that he'd become one of the most scared.

"I can't!" Jim cried under his breath, "I ca--" another shooting pain rioted through his right leg like a dagger, sending his lips trembling with whimpers that were wanting to be heard.

"I know," Bones tipped Jim's head back gently and realigned the mask that was falling off, "I know, just try n' live through it for a few more seconds." He continued to hold Jim's head in place, gently using his thumb to stroke his cheek as the only way of reassurance he could use. He didn't care if the others were watching him cater to another patient, Jim was his best friend damn it, and he hated seeing him like this.

Jim's eyes rolled around in his head as he tried to focus, small gasps of air being inhaled through his mouth.

"Let me go!" Jim moaned, his fingers scraping along the metal sides of the bed.

"I've never had a patient walk out in the middle of an operation," Bones mused, trying to lighten the mood and failing. Jim's head lulled to the side and gazed up at him.

"Whyyy...do this...t'me..."

Bones' eyes drifted to the floor in guilt.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I wish I knew how to help."

"Just...l-let...me...guh...go..." it was clear that Jim was struggling to form a sentence through the cloud of pain.

But then it hit McCoy like a knife in the gut.

He wasn't talking about stopping the operation; the kid wanted to die.

McCoy swallowed hard and tried to gather his senses, before moving behind Jim and upping the dosage of the anaesthesia.

"Breathe this in, Jim," he instructed quietly, ignoring the comment he made about his life. He felt immensely guilty about how Jim felt, as if everything was his fault.

_I need the old Jim back, damn it._

_I need the kid full of life again._

"Bones...."

At that second, an alarm blared from overhead, flashing red and reading 'Oxygen saturation low.'

He inhaled sharply, quickly gathering a remedy hypo and pressing it into Jim's neck.

Then, his assistant announced something he thought he'd never hear, "I'm all done, sir, Winters is finishing up."

Bones glanced over and offered a nod, before kneeling down to Jim and lightly tapping his cheek.

"Hear that, kid? We're all done." he whispered, eying the anaesthesia controls, which gave him an idea.

If the chemicals had stopped flooding his system, perhaps sedatives affected him like they should again? Although there were doubts, as the remaining chemicals needed time to empty from Jim's system.

But he had to try.

"Jim," he tried to get his attention, but only got fluttering eyelids and a quiet moan. "I'm gonna put ya in an induced coma for a while. I can't promise anything as the chemicals will still be in you, but I can try."

Jim's eyes opened slightly, staring into McCoy's and giving him the feeling he was begging, before they fell shut again.

McCoy immediately got to work.

 

 

_A/N: Seems like a weird place to leave it but I have plans to write out the recovery bit. Remember to review, yada yada yada, you won't read this, I enjoy eating in restaurants._


	19. Chapter 19

...........

...........

...........

...........

"Jim."

...........

...........

...........

"Jim, wake up, damn it!"

...........

_Who was that irritating voice coming from?_

"Ahmambanamah" Jim garbled, trying to silence the other voice.

His future intentions to ignore the demanding voice was thrown out the window when he was rudely forced into alertness by a sting to his neck.

The first thing he saw was the face of McCoy standing over him.

"Mornin' kiddo," he said, offering what looked like a mix between a smirk and a grin, "And before you send yourself into cardiac arrest; you can't move because you're in the body restraint again."

Jim pieced this information together in his very slow brain.

"Wha'appen?" his mouth coordinated with the speech function of his brain to form a sentence.

He was starting to get the hang of this whole 'being awake' thing.

"Memory gaps are normal, you've been in a coma for three days," McCoy unleashed this new profound piece of information, shocking Jim to the core.

"Coma?"

"Yeah. You had surgery to get rid of the trackers."

Jim blinked slowly, a grin breaking out over his face, "Squares... 'member."

He loved those squares. He reminded himself to request for a chunk of them to be placed in a frame.

"Yeah. Luckily as the devices were removed, the chemicals pumping into you stopped forming and allowed your body to accept the use of sedatives again."

Jim let every word McCoy said drift past him, and instead focused on the fact that he wanted to visit the squares.

He pondered about it more, and got excited the more he thought about it.

"Bones!" Jim shouted in excitement, "I wanna go take the squares out for a walk!"

The older man peered over him, a deep scowl present over his face.

What was wrong with that? He really wanted to show the squares just how amazing space was!

"You feelin' alright, Jim?" Bones asked slowly, clearly worried, for some reason. Then, a scanner was hovering over his face.

Jim squinted.

"Feeling fine, Bones," he replied sarcastically, "Get that thing outta my face!"

McCoy narrowed his eyes when Jim started swatting the scanner away from him.

"Winters?" Bones called across the room to the nurse. Then realised she wasn't in the room. Damn it.

He opened his comm.

"What's wrong?" Jim pouted. He really thought that he was getting better.

"Not sure. What's with the squares?"

"They're really pretty!"

"Uh huh. Kid, you've got an obsession over those ceiling patterns. It's not healthy."

"It is healthy!"

"You want to _walk_ them!"

" _So_?"

Nurse Winters barged through the door at that moment. Both Jim and Bones stopped arguing to face her.

"Sir?" she questioned, a look on her face showing that she knew she'd just interrupted something.

Bones picked up a hypo.

"Take a deep breath, Jim," McCoy gently urged him.

"That won't work on me, you said they don't work anymore!"

"They will now the trackers have been removed."

McCoy advanced towards him, Jim shifted backwards against his bed.

"Wait. Wait-- I don't want this." Jim held out a protective hand to defend himself from the weapon that the doctor hoisted.

"Nurse, put up 6mg of Duziltamine." he ordered, not taking his eyes off Jim.

"Yes sir," and immediately she turned behind her to fetch the medication.

Jim lay wide-eyed at McCoy,

"I don't understand this, Bones..."

"Neither do I, kid, but it's for your own good." Bones knew that Jim was referring to why he was being medicated rather than what was happening to him, but he would have his Captain medicated no matter what.

Winters returned with a bag of the medication, hooking it up to the IV.

Jim watched her connect the bag to his IV, eying the liquid running through the tubing. The medication was cold as it hit his veins, making Jim squirm and pull his arm away in discomfort as it travelled through his veins.

"What's that?" he muttered, holding his arm out away from him like it was a foreign object.

Winters was about to call it Duziltamine before she realised Jim wouldn't know what it meant.

"It's a slow-acting sedative, Captain," she replied instead, "You'll feel better soon."

McCoy could feel Jim's panicking heart without even looking at the monitors. Perhaps the racing sound of his heart-rate had something to do with it.

"Don't worry, it's not gonna make you sleep. Just want you to stay calm, don't want you messing up my handiwork," he reassured Jim, "If I have to perform surgery one more time on your reckless backside, I'll assign twenty hypos of saline a day to your diet for the next six months."

Jim internally cringed but kept a neutral face.

"You wouldn't dare." He sneered at the smirking doctor.

"I can and I will. So, don't ya go ruining my work, you understand?"

Jim folded his arms across his chest in disgust and pouted in submission.

"Whatever."

McCoy held himself back from chuckling when he saw that Jim was peeling his eyes open, trying not to fall asleep. He was staring intensely at the ceiling in concentration, fighting back the urge to give into the sleepiness.

"You're probably better off sleeping," McCoy remarked, stepping closer to Jim's bedside again and glancing at the monitors.

All was fine, he just had to convince himself of that.

 

Another whole day had passed before Jim woke up again; he'd slept through the entirety of yesterday.

His eyes were heavy and aching, begging him to go back to sleep, a dull throbbing pain in his right temple.

Jim imagined himself stroking the crust out of his tear-ducts because he was too tired to move his arms.

"Ah, you're awake," the sound of McCoy's voice both made him feel comforted and exasperated, "Was beginning to get worried there."

Jim rolled his already closed eyes and let out a low hum of acknowledgement. "Hmm..."

A buzzing noise nearly startled him before he realised it was from one of McCoy's damn scanners, he lifted an arm and lazily swatted the annoyance away.

"G'way" he mumbled, cracking open his eyes to find where his arm was swaying, and noticing it was nowhere near the scanner.

McCoy had a rare smile on his face, or more of a slightly upturned lip corners. He placed the scanner aside, ignoring Jim's waving arm, and took out something else, something small that Jim didn't recognise, like a tiny box the size of his thumb.

Said box was attached onto Jim's left leg, causing a slight stinging feeling.

Jim sat up to observe what the doctor was doing, but seemed to be simply writing notes on his PADD. The hands holding up his body weight quickly grew tired, and he flopped back down onto the bed.

"You feel that?" Bones' was still entirely involved with his PADD, paying no attention whatsoever to the thing stuck to Jim's leg.

Jim shut his tiring eyes, "Yeah. My head hurts."

McCoy nodded slightly and glanced up at the overhead light on Jim's bed, "That probably doesn't help," he murmured, "Bed 6A lights off."

Jim groaned in relief, so relieved in fact he thought he might not need a hypo. Which made him even more relieved.

"Now about that leg," McCoy snapped him out of his thoughts, "Let's turn the intensity up."

Jim scowled at the man with his back towards him, "But it's already stinging."

At this, McCoy stopped and raised a stray eyebrow.

"Yeah? There's sensation in your leg, you mean?"

Jim nodded tiredly. God damn, he just wanted to sleep.

"Can you move it at all? Now, I mean don't even think about standing but-What about your toes? Can you wiggle them?"

Jim let out a soft sigh and shrugged. McCoy seemed almost buzzing with excitement but Jim hardly cared. Or, more like buzzing with anticipation than excitement.

He wiggled his toes successfully, then offered a sleepy smile to the doctor and closed his eyes again.

"Ah, yeah that's good! That's uh-that's good kid. Don't you care? You can move your toes when a minute ago they were paralysed!"

Jim groaned and ran a sluggish hand through his face, then into his hair and over his ears.

"Just wanna sleep, Bones..."

"Not yet, I'm not through with testing your reactions yet."

A low moan escaped Jim's lips, "But my head hurts!" he whined, as if that excuse in itself was enough to get the doctor to leave him alone.

It wasn't.

"Then drink some water, here," he heard McCoy's footsteps grow further away from the bed before something cold and circular was shoved into his palm.

Opening his eyes, it was a cup filled with water. He must be so far gone, seeing as he didn't even hear Bones fill it up with water.

"Mmm'no fanks," Jim slurred, pushing the cup away from him and leaving it on the bed.

It promptly spilled over.

"Damn it, Jim! I don't wanna put you back on an IV drip but damn it all, I will!"

Jim made an unappreciative noise at the back of his throat and shut his eyes again.

_Fine._

_Shove twenty IV's in my arm and stick me with hypos but let me sleep,_ he thought to himself.

There was a blissful pause for a few moments, and for a second Jim was beginning to think he'd won that argument, before there was a quiet sigh and the bed was being raised upwards into a sitting position.

Jim loudly exclaimed his disagreement with another angry noise, determined not to play along with whatever Bones was planning.

This time he heard the sound of a cup being filled with water, but this time the resulting object was pressed to his lips.

Jim opened his eyes, startled, before fixing a glare on McCoy.

"I'm not letting you step backwards. Now drink it." he snapped, holding the cup to his mouth and seemingly refusing to do anything else.

He'd probably stand there for twenty minutes.

Grunting, Jim slightly dipped his head forward to access the water, and McCoy tipped it back so that the water went in his mouth and down his throat.

Admittedly, the cool liquid felt good against his dry throat, not like he was gonna say that.

"Okay?" Bones asked after the cup was emptied. Jim nodded his confirmation, blowing out a sigh of relief as the bed was lowered flat again.

"I'll let you sleep before I carry on with my tests, but just this once," McCoy's scowl deepened to emphasise his statement, before leaving Jim in peace.

Jim was happy to comply.

 

McCoy prodded with Jim's left leg as he slept. His limbs were responding to stimulation like they were supposed to, as if nothing had happened.

Satisfied with the outcome of the surgery a few days before, he tapped away on his PADD, noting his observations that went along the lines of:

Tracking devices implanted in Kirk's soleus muscle produced an unknown paralysis-inducing neurotoxin. Upon removal, nerves are now properly responding to stimulation with no apparent further complications. Soon to begin physiotherapy.

With that set in place, he threw the PADD onto the metallic instrument tray and took a final glance up at the monitors, before managing to convince himself Kirk was stable enough to be left alone.

Not that he was alone, there were on duty nurses, but it was almost as if the second McCoy left, Jim would relapse.

Shrugging the feeling off, he headed out the isolation room.

"Lights twenty percent." he spoke softly, just enough for the computer to recognise his command.  The lights dimmed, and he left Jim to sleep.

 

Ping!

…

Ping!

_Shut up, I'm tryna sleep._

...

Ping!

_Shut up._

...

Ping!

...

Ping!

" _Shut up!"_ McCoy roared, sitting up from his bed and glaring daggers into pinging wall comm as if that would make it shut up. He was tired, having been dragged out of sleep after...what, ten minutes?

Ping!

" _Dammit_."

Grumbling to himself, he sluggishly slid wearily out of bed, stomping over to the wall comm and pressing the button.

"McCoy 'ere," he mumbled, wanting to collapse on the spot.

"Bones!" an excited but hoarse voice radiated from the wall.

McCoy blinked at the comm, "Jim?"

"Bones, I kicked Spock in the face and he punched me! It was awesome!"

"You--what--you kicked--what the hell, Jim?" And why did the kid wake him up just to tell him that? Come to think of it, it wasn't like Spock to react in a lowly human fashion.

"I can feel my legs, Bones!"

Oh. Yeah. That's why he was excited.

"And move them, too!" The excitement in Jim's voice brought up a swelling happy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Wait a minute,

"How hard did you kick him, Jim?" McCoy suddenly remembered the fact that he'd injured the first officer. Typical Jim, the first thing he does when he regains control of his limbs is to kick Spock in the face.

"Dunno, he punched me in the eye, looked kinda embarrassed or something and stormed out," Jim explained, "Bones, come down here!"

McCoy sighed. He was hoping, and was desperate to, catch some well earned sleep, he'd be happy to take a dive to floor and nap there at this point.

But, duty calls.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming ya little brat, gotta see what that Vulcan did to that pretty little face of yours, huh."

There wasn't a reply as the comm instantly clicked, meaning the transmission had ended.

With a long and exhausted groan, McCoy swabbed up the blue shirt he left on the floor earlier and pulled it over his head, preparing himself for an overly-spirited Jim. It was nice to hear him so upbeat again after all this time though, but the kid didn't seem to realise the therapy he'd need to start walking again.

"Computer, lights off," he mumbled as he left his quarters.

 

"Alright, what the hell did you--" McCoy was halfway across Jim's designated room before noticing the man had a black eye. Literally, a black eye; it was swollen shut, but Jim didn't seem to care.

"Good god, man!" he grumbled, storming up to Jim. He was grinning that winning smile again. Chapel was also at the other end of the room on the left, picking up supplies likely to heal Jim's eye with.

"Where's Spock?" he asked, remembering the kid had kicked him in the face. Jim's face dropped into a serious Captain's mask.

"Dunno, he stormed out," he pondered, then smiled again, returning attention to his legs, "Told you I can heal on my own," Jim boasted, flinging his limbs around the bed, much to Chapel's annoyance.

She sighed, "Captain, unless you want a melted retina I suggest you stay still," she ordered sternly, glaring at his uninjured eye in such a way McCoy was proud of.

Jim frowned at the remark as if he were a child and slumped back onto the bed.

" _Infant_ ," muttered McCoy, pacing over to Chapel to see the damage up close. It wouldn't take more than a couple of regenerator sessions, but it looked painful.

He pursed his lips together in thought, "I'm gonna get Spock down here," he decided, heading for the comm, "Either he comes down here or I'm coming up there, wherever he is..."

_Click._

"Mister Spock, get your backside down to sickbay, now," he nearly yelled into the comm, expecting some unnecessary work-related excuse in response.

There was a pause, and for a second McCoy was beginning to think the transmission didn't go through.

"Mister Sp--"

"I will visit sickbay shortly, doctor," McCoy could only imagine the smug look on his face. He slapped the button with the back of his hand and turned to Jim, his left eye looking slightly better without the swelling.

"How's the eye?" he asked gruffly, treading his way back over to the kid. The young man shifted around in the biobed a bit - uncomfortable perhaps? - Then smiled up to the doctor.

"M' fine, Bones," Jim lied, the pain indicator on the overhead monitor saying otherwise.

"Yeah, I can see that," he grumbled, grabbing a hypo to jam into the man's neck, "Don't lie to me kiddo, that Vulcan son of a bitch has the strength of an elephant and hammered you in the eye with a fist. If something's up I need to know," a hypo was then stabbed into Jim's neck, eliciting a wheeze and a glare, but nothing more.  Kirk eyed McCoy for a few more seconds before slumping back on the bed and giving in.

"My eye hurts. But that's normal, can I go now? I can try standing-" Jim pulled himself up, before wincing at a sharp pain in his legs and thumped back down.

"And let that be a lesson to you," McCoy grumbled, pressing a button on the side of the bed to slowly raise it into a sitting position, "We'll start on physio today, but first I want to see that eye- and where the hell is that damn Vulcan?" he rambled on while the bed was raising.

Jim shrugged, closing his eyes momentarily.

"I'm tired..." he murmured, McCoy noticing his heart rate slowing. He was about to yank the bed back down and run a million tests before the vital stabilised itself.

"Yeah well...you will be," he muttered, scanning the room with his eyes for a certain contraption.

"The room is weird..." Jim licked his lips and shut his tired eyes again.

"Oh...yeah...?" McCoy strained, pulling over the located contraption, "...How...so?"

Jim let out a breath and then realised he quickly needed to take in another one. And exhale, and inhale quickly.

" _Fuck_ " Jim spat, heaving out a breath with force and squeezing his eyes shut.

"You okay?" McCoy left the equipment for a second and gazed up at the yellow flashing number on the monitor, then glanced over to Jim when he didn't reply. He was moaning quietly, with every breath he took.

"Alright, okay," McCoy pressed his lips into a thin line and forced the bed down flat again, "Nurse Chapel!" he bellowed, hoping the nurse could hear him in a different room.

Thankfully, she stormed in shortly after.

"I think he's anaemic, I want to do a blood transfusion," he ordered, gesturing up to the flashing monitor.

Jim continued moaning under his breath, for what McCoy assumed was a way to keep him awake.

"You got any chest pains?" he asked, sticking a needle into Jim's arm which, worryingly, got no response.

Jim made a low noise at the back of his throat which translated to 'no.'

"Alright," McCoy mumbled, taking a quick look at Jim's pale face, "Start on o-neg blood, it'll be safer," he told Chapel, taking a pen light and shining it in Jim's eye.

That got a response.

"Mmmnnnn!" Jim whined, kicking his leg at the intrusion but yelped at the pain.

"Stop moving your legs, idiot!" McCoy barked, watching the transfusion travel through the IV, "You're gonna be okay," he reassured only to himself.

Chapel took her PADD and began writing notes under Jim's medical file, "How'd this happen?" she asked out loud, eyes moving over Jim's body and looking for signs of a bleed.

"There's no internal bleeding, it's gotta be a result of the surgery, only just came to surface when he strained himself," McCoy decided, snatching the PADD from a startled Chapel and writing in the notes himself, "Dammit, there should have been signs..."

Chapel slowly shook her head, not taking her eyes away from Jim.

"He lost a lot of blood, doctor, sometimes you can't necessarily tell a patient is anaemic before he strains his body for supplies he doesn't have."

McCoy nodded solemnly, but still kicked himself on the inside.

_I should have noticed. Now look what's happened, and it's your fault._

"He'll be fine, just give the transfusion a while to settle through and he'll be right as rain again," Chapel smiled at him, clearly knowing he was berating himself, as he always does.

"You hear that kid? You're gonna be fine." He lightly squeezed Jim on the shoulder, stopping the young man from the big stretch he was doing.

"Mmmnen walking?" Jim slurred, mouth corners slightly upturned.

Bones allowed himself to smirk and nodded, "Yeah, if you feel alright," It'd probably take several days until Jim was well enough to start walking after this set back, but Jim was a fighter, and would probably be up and about, pissing all the medical staff off before he knew it.

Jim gleefully grinned and threw his hands over his face, letting out a sigh of relief.

He couldn’t wait to start walking again.

 

 

_**A/N: The next chapter is gonna be the last one, I'm starting to get more ideas for fanfics and this one is getting dragged out a bit- needs to be ended now. But afterwards, there's gonna be a new hurt!kirk fanfic like this one, as always. Stay tuned and thanks for the R &R!** _


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter that wraps things up. Also in which Jim is a bitch for no-win scenarios.

_Last time:  
"Mmmnen walking?" Jim slurred, mouth corners slightly upturned. _

_Bones allowed himself to smirk and nodded, "Yeah, if you feel alright."_

_Jim gleefully grinned and threw his hands over his face, letting out a sigh of relief._

\-----------

Three days later,

 

Jim grasped onto the walking supports for dear life, his fists curled around the poles and shaking with tension.

He would **_not_** fall over.

"Just a little further, Jim," Bones encouraged, only a couple of inches away from the man. Jim had insisted that Bones be helping him walk again instead of a physiotherapist, much to McCoy's annoyance. He'd refuse to be, what he called 'babied into walking like a three-year-old' by anyone else but his best friend.

So, McCoy let it go and agreed to help him, for the sake of the man's recovery.

Jim's left hand slipped from the pole, and he almost doubled over if it wasn't for another hand instantly grabbing his torso on reflex and aiding his lost hand back to the railings.

"You can stop now," McCoy stepped closer, if that were possible, ready to catch him if he fell.

Jim, of course, stayed exactly where he was, eyes fixated on the ground in concentration. There was a nauseous feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach, bile threatening to spill out his throat.

"Move out the way," Jim breathed, fingers trembling and pale, "I can do this."

A hand unexpectedly appeared on his shoulder, almost making him jump.

"Jim, you need to sit down. You're sweating like no tomorrow and your heart-rate's climbing, not to mention the shaking." McCoy spoke to him in a calmer demeanour than he was used to. There was no use in hiding his concern with anger like he usually did, the kid was prone to fall apart any minute now.

"Jim," he urged when Kirk still didn't budge.

"I can do this, Bones, it's not hard!" Jim shouted, not looking up from the ground. He must be dizzy, too, to add onto the list of ever increasing symptoms.

McCoy blew out a sigh of resignation, taking a couple of steps back to humour the man that insisted he could walk after not standing for five months.

The hands on the railings gripped harder, and not even a second later, Jim's legs turned to jelly and stumbled forward.

McCoy jumped in front and caught him, lowering him to the ground with a deep scowl on his face. Jim's expression was blank.

"What'd I tell you, kid," Bones sighed, "It's gonna take longer than an hour. You've been off your feet for months!"

Jim didn't reply, clearly disappointed with himself.

McCoy wrapped two fingers around Jim's wrist, feeling for how fast that pulse was going.

Of course, it was pounding much harder than he'd like.

A small voice muffled in his shirt brought his attention back to Jim,

"Feel sick."

 _Damn it._ The several hundred array of hyposprays were more than an arms reach away.

"Just hold on kiddo, you think you can stay here while I get a hypo for that?"

There was a slight pressure of a nod being pressed against his chest, so McCoy gently lay him to the ground and stood up, "I won't be a sec."

........

Jim traced his finger along the blank PADD, now back up and secure on his biobed. He felt slightly dazed, a headache forming behind his eye-sockets.

Heavy eyelids closed and his fingers went slack; he wanted to sleep but his mind was buzzing,

When would he walk again?

Would he walk again?

Was it safe to stand up and run out of sickbay without Bones looking?

Probably not, he had to get out of both his isolation room and the main sickbay. A little tricky when the CMO watches you like a hawk.

"You alright, Jim?"

Ah, the man himself.

"Your breathing is a little out of whack," Bones' voice became louder as he got closer. Eventually Jim opened his eyes to see him standing beside his biobed and staring intensely at the overhead monitors.

"Jus' peachy," Jim slurred, shutting his eyelids again. What he'd do for some sleep right now.

"Ah-OW! Bones!" Jim yelled, a sharp pain radiating from his neck. No sleep it is then.

"Shut it. God knows why you're not used to hypos by now," McCoy retorted, looking between Jim and the monitors before slapping him lightly on the shoulder, "Goodnight, Jim."

Oh, maybe he was getting some sleep after all.

Nice.

.......

The next time Jim woke up, it felt like only a few hours had gone. But all the lights in his room were dimmed, and the monitors had been set silent, apart from the emergency alerts of course.

Sitting up, Jim observed his surroundings.

There was no one in his room, surprisingly, not even Bones. Perhaps all the staff were caught up in some emergency in main sickbay.

Sighing, Jim pondered whether he should risk trying to walk on his own.

No one would be there to baby him, or tell him what his limits were. He could damn well practice all night long, then in his next physio tomorrow, be set free from this prison.

 _Walk to the back of the bed and back_ , he pushed himself, _that's easy enough._

Slowly, Jim hauled his fatigued muscles to their feet, stumbling slightly without the supports he needed.

With the goal in sight, he set off, dragging his feet across the floor, holding onto the bed every now and then, determined to reach his target.

He was successful.

Even after that tiny journey across the room that would take any other person a mere second, Jim was exhausted and wanted to sleep again.

On the other hand, forcing himself to walk could mean getting released early; so that was what he focused on.

......

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

What the hell was that? Surely it wasn't morning yet?

_Beep, Beep--Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-_

Good god, his alarm clock was getting desperate. Was he late for his shift?

McCoy groaned inwardly, shifting himself onto his side, "Compu'r" he slurred tiredly, "Turn off that damned alarm clock."

There were a couple of seconds filled with rhythmic beeping in processing before it chimed, "Alarm clock not scheduled to operate until 0600 hours. Disable alarm clock?"

A feeling of anxiety sunk into McCoy's stomach.

If his alarm wasn't sounding, then that meant...

 _Shit_ , he murmured, throwing the sheets from his bed,

_That could only mean Jim._

Catapulting himself down the hallway, McCoy almost slammed into the doors to sickbay before they had even finished opening.

There were two nurses waiting outside Jim's dedicated room, and another kneeling down next to him.

At McCoy's approach to them, the nurse looked up, and he recognised her to be Chapel.

Jim was sprawled out all over the floor, his breathing erratic, but from a quick observation, didn't seem injured.

"The hell happened?" McCoy muttered, mainly to Jim, "How'd you end up on the floor?"

The dishevelled heap on the floor made a muffled noise, his eyelids fluttering with exhaustion. There was a sheen line of sweat on his forehead, but medical scanners confirmed there was no fever.

McCoy almost growled at the conclusion.

"You tried to walk on your own, didn't you.”

Another mumble escaped from the younger man's lips, eyes rolling around their sockets, probably attempting to focus on something.

Did the kid need a damned guard on the door or something? Security to watch his every damn move?

"Get him back on the bed," McCoy hissed, gripping Jim's wrist tightly, "And for the love of god, give him a sedative."

There were quiet moans coming from Jim, in what McCoy assumed was complaining, but the man was sure to try again the second he got his energy back.

"Nuh sed'tive" Jim slurred, a hand reaching out to slap McCoy away from him.

"Sorry Jim, but I don't want you taking another journey across the room to what would end up with only you and the floor," he remarked, but the younger man started squirming.

Chapel was attempting to hold his legs, but Jim's retaliated and kicked himself free.

"Jim-no--Jim--Jim, for god sakes--" McCoy tried to avoid the swatting arms. "Jesus, alright, we sedate him here."

The kicking grew fiercer.

"Jim--" a leg collided with Chapel's stomach, "JIM, NO!"

Then the offending muscles went slack. Without another word, McCoy slipped a sedative into the kid's neck, watching him closely to ensure he didn't pretend to sleep.

His blinking grew slower, and eventually his writhing legs stopped moving altogether.

"You okay?" He asked Chapel while waiting, glancing up quickly to see her shifting uncomfortably. Jim's eyes fluttered shut.

"I'll be alright," she replied, unconsciously rubbing her stomach, "Let's get him up."

Satisfied that Jim wasn't faking it, McCoy nodded and helped the other nurse heave him onto his biobed, the monitors immediately coming to life.

"He should be out until morning, but I'll get an on-duty doctor to check up on him every hour," McCoy decided, looking back on Jim's sleeping form before heading to the door.

"I wonder if he actually got somewhere," Chapel pondered, the doors to main sickbay swishing open and shut, closing off Jim to the world in his little room.

....

The last time Jim was awake, he was on the floor.

Now, however, he was lying on something that was most definitely not the floor, unless they've had the ship refurbished while he was asleep.

Without his permission? How dare they.

"W'muh'shih'have'ffflooor" Jim slurred, finding it difficult to open his mouth.

It took too much energy.   
Energy he spent lying on the floor.

"What's that, Jim?" A blue blob above him was moving around at breakneck speed.

'You refurbished the ship' was what Jim wanted to say.

Instead it came out like;  
"Fsssshhh..."

The blue splotch above him began taking the form of what appeared to be a human being.

_Bones._

"Better?" he asked, the frown lines becoming clear on the older man's face. It was like viewing the world in HD.

Jim shut his eyes again, becoming aware of the restless sensation in his legs.

"Much," he muttered, twisting and moving his feet across the mattress at the thought of it.

It was like it almost burnt not moving them.

"What's with your legs?" Bones peered over at them, noticing the constant fidgeting, "Restless?"

Jim quickly nodded. He needed to _move_!

"Well, I'll get you up on your feet for physio again, but I need to get Chapel first," Bones informed him, "Stay here."

Jim didn't acknowledge him, just shut his eyes again and fidgeted constantly.

God damn, this was uncomfortable.

...

Ten minutes later, and Jim was practically climbing the walls.

In fact, he would be, if it wasn't for the very deep and threatening lingering tone from the words 'Stay here' echoing in his mind.

No one had returned to his room to help him walk.

Help him walk.

Ha.

He didn't need _help_. He was James Kirk, child of George Kirk, survivor of Tarsus, Captain of the Enterprise, destroyer of--

**_CRASH._ **

Jim fell into a heap on the floor.

Again.

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep....._

Shit. There goes his ticket for getting out of here.

The doors to sickbay decided to swish open at that point, much to Kirk's dismay. He frowned at the impending lecture and sagged his head to the ground.

"The hell'd I tell you about staying in bed?!"

Here he goes.

"You see what I mean, Chris? Can't leave him alone for ten seconds...."

Jim ignored the rest of the ranting. Ten seconds. More like ten hours. He concentrated on McCoy's feet, admiring how high his boots came up his knees.

 _‘Wow, how does he not get patient vomit all over them?’_ Jim pretended to wonder, doing anything to avoid listening to Bones right now.

Ah yes, Chapel's shoes, it's amazing how-

"Are you even listening to me?"

Jim groaned internally. No, he wasn't listening.

"Yeah," Jim lied, pouting slightly from the depths of the cold marble floor.

"Y'know normally I'd shove you right back into bed and make you stay there as punishment, but unfortunately you have to walk again, so..."

Jim didn't even finish processing the sentence before his body was being lifted into the air, noticing the hands under his armpits. His head lulled back with his non-existent attempt to keep himself upright.

"Make an effort, you moron," was hissed into Jim's ear. He tensed up, succeeding in lifting his head into an acceptable position.

"The sooner we get you walking, the sooner you can get out of here, Captain." Chapel's voice added.

Then, his legs were being dragged across the floor, he watched them bounce around as his heel collided with the ground every now and then.

"Now come on, hold onto the rails. Same as yesterday."

Jim blearily gazed up, discovering the bars in front of him. Sluggishly, his lazy body threw out a hand and clenched onto a rail, then the other hand.

He swayed slightly, trying to keep himself upright. Bones wasn't going anywhere near him this time. He held onto the rails for dear life.

But his body was too difficult to hold up. His legs were like jelly underneath him.

_I'm gonna fall._

_I'm gonna fall._

"You're not going to fall, Jim, Chris and I are right here," McCoy's voice sounded miles away, the room was stuffed into tunnel vision.

He wavered.

"I've got him,"

"Yep,"

Several pairs of hands latched onto his limbs and held him upright.

The blackened edges of Jim's vision made his vision very narrow. It was a thin dark tunnel, carrying on for miles, with two faces at the other side.

He tried to speak, tell them he needed to just get used to standing up, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate.

"Annmem belug dalahhh"

Then suddenly, the room was rapidly moving; he was definitely falling now.

"Ugggggh" Jim moaned through unresponsive lips, watching the world spin around.

Out of nowhere, his neck began stinging.

There was ringing in his ears, drowning out everything he heard. Too many black spots over his tunnel vision covered up what remained of his sight.

He listened to himself breathing heavily.

Inhaling....exhaling....

Jim vaguely felt a pressure on the skin of his face, and something wrap around the fingers of his left hand.

He shut his eyes and breathed.

In...out...in...out...

If he concentrated and listened very carefully, he could just about make out the sound of distant voices.

"That's it... just keep breathing for me... that's it..."

_I am breathing, damn it._

He soon became aware of something; a hand, gently running up and down his back, and another hand wrapped around his own left one.

"Should we lie him back?"

"Nah, just give him a minute."

The pressure on his face shifted and he almost forgot it was there.

Letting his eyes go cross-eyed, the outline of an oxygen mask filled his line of sight.

Ah. So, no standing up for a while then.

"Hmmmm..." Jim hummed to himself, as if trying to clarify he was still awake.

Apparently, he was.

"You just love to make my job harder, don'tcha?" Jim heard Bones sarcastically retort from beside him, "You ready to try again?"

Jim didn't need to be asked twice, and immediately scrambled to his feet again, pausing when a large hand settled on his left shoulder.

"Slowly-slowly, don't want you passing out again do ya? Or do you just want to piss me off? Yeah, I'll go with that,"

Jim ignored the remark and as quickly as was acceptable for the doctor, got back onto his feet and grasped the rails again.

"Just say when you're ready to start walking, alright?" Chapel softly told him, circling behind him and holding the side of either arms, so that he was supported. Jim nodded sluggishly, the effort was taking energy that he didn't have.

McCoy stood directly in front of him and took a few steps back.

"Take your time and walk over to me. Use the rail this time."

Jim didn't even nod this time, letting his eyelids shut for a second.

With a cautious foot forward, his knees wobbled like jelly.

Not only that, but his entire body felt heavy, as if something was weighing him down. It made his legs difficult to move.

But he wasn't going to show how he felt.

Determined to prove his strength, Jim mustered up the strength to slide his right hand along the rail, sliding one foot across the marble floor, instead of lifting it.

McCoy didn't care though, at least not right now. If this was how Jim wanted to recover, then sliding his feet across the floor it is. He'll have to focus on lifting his legs properly another time.

Jim inched forward again, his face scrunched up in concentration.

"You're doing really well, lovely," Chapel encouraged from behind him, still holding him upright with two hands on both the sides of his arms, "I'm going to let go of you now, try to take your next step without me, alright?"

Jim let out a low hum in acknowledgement; speaking would deter him from concentration.

Chapel carefully loosened her grip on him, hands hovering behind his back just in case he was about to fall.

He wavered slightly, but soon found it easier to move around without someone holding him, strangely enough.

As he took another step closer, Bones stretched both arms out to grab him, like a parent waiting for their child to stumble over to them.

So, he took another step, gripping onto the rail for dear life, then fell forward into Bones' embrace.

The older man huffed and grabbed Jim tightly, holding him up at arms length, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips.

"There ya go, kiddo, now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Jim blew out a sigh of relief and dropped his head to the floor, overcome with exhaustion from those simple steps.

"Right, now back to bed with you, before you collapse on me," the doctor took Jim's silence as without quarrel, gently turning him around and taking hold of his shoulders, guiding him back to bed slowly.

Normally Jim would refuse such a way he was being handled, but tiredness took the fight out of him, blinking slowly as he was helped back onto the bed.

Immediately, Jim rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, begging his body to drag him into sleep. He hasn't felt so tired since waking up after being revived from radiation poisoning.

"Resps are a little low, but that's to be expected," he heard the voice of Bones off to the side of him. He forgot the monitors exposed his exhaustion.

"Giving him Tri-ox now, sir," Chapel's voice was behind him, almost making him jump. He didn't flinch when metal collided with his neck, followed by a hiss and a sting. Probably because Chapel was the 'injector', so was gentle, unlike Bones who enjoyed slamming it into a muscle with force. Gradually, he found it easier to breathe.

"Let's put him on oxygen, just to be sure," Bones ordered, almost immediately the command was followed by a breeze to his face.

Opening his eyes, he saw a blue blob standing over him, which eventually smoothed out into the form of McCoy.

The doctor was standing over him, holding a mask to his face, staring at him unnervingly.

"How'd you feel?"

It took Jim at least 10 seconds to gather a one-word reply.

"Tired" he shut his eyes again, his senses taking note of the hissing sound over his face, and the slight pressure of the mask being pressed over his mouth and nose. He felt like he could drift off then and there.

After a while of silence, there was movement around his bed, he almost didn't notice it.

"It's taking a while to improve," he heard Chapel say, her voice quite loud, signifying she was standing right next to him.

"Increase oxygen by 2%," McCoy ordered.

Feeling his head being lifted forward slightly, Jim opened his eyes. McCoy was pulling an elastic headband around the back of Jim's head.

"Just doin' this so I don't have to stand here and hold it for ages, you're making my arm ache."

Jim smirked to himself and hummed quietly in reply.

"M' f'ked up again, huh," he mumbled slowly, keeping his tired eyes shut.

"This is normal, it happens, don't worry about it," McCoy gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Your body is still readjusting, you've been bed-bound for almost five months, remember?" Chapel reassured him, finishing the adjustments to the equipment.

Jim nodded sluggishly, just wanting to do nothing else but sleep.

The noise from his surroundings drowned out into nothingness, until eventually, sleep was what he did.

…………..

Knock down another three weeks, and you have Kirk planning his escape from sickbay, an escape that was 'long overdue' and 'necessary to escape his hostage situation'.

On his PADD.

With Spock.

McCoy had already swiped the device away from him twice after two other crew members had reported his plan to them.

Kirk shouted blasphemy and threatened to court marshal them for mutiny.

Acting Captain Spock obviously didn't agree.

"First Adams, then McFaure, now you hatch an escape plan with Spock?" McCoy snatched the PADD away from him for the third time, "If you're not careful you're gonna be the one court-marshalled, kid."

Jim gave McCoy the cold shoulder, staring off into the distance with the most furious expression he could care to make. McCoy sighed.

"Jim, listen," he pulled up a small stool next to him and sat down, "You spend the rest of today without an escape attempt and take the meds I prescribed you, then maybe, just _maybe_ I’ll let you go free to your quarters tonight."

Jim's head slightly inched towards McCoy's direction in interest.

"I have more important things to do than lay here and get ogled at like a zoo exhibition." Jim muttered under his breath. His folded arms and sulky expression betrayed his intent to seem in command; he looked like an infant.

"And I have more important things to do than drag your ass back in here every three hours."

Jim rolled his eyes, turning onto his side so that his back faced McCoy.

"Fine, looks like you're staying here for another few days then," the doctor was heard to have stood up, the stool metal scraping across the floor.

Jim jolted onto his back.

"No! Okay, look, no escape attempts, then I can leave, yeah?"

McCoy managed to hold back the smirk of success that was threatening to escape.

"Yeah. Stay put until 1900 hours and you can go back to your quarters."

Jim shuffled down the biobed slightly and attempted a half-assed stretch.

"Kay."

......

The next three hours were painful for Jim. Not only did Jim need to stop acting on his escape plans, but he was blackmailed into eating food as well.

He glared down at the mess of molecules in his plastic bowl that were apparently deemed as edible food.

Bones had really trapped him in on this one, with the promise of escape at the end of the day.

Jim looked at the bio clock that lit up on the side monitor;

_1830 hours._

Half an hour to go.

But if Bones came back and that bowl wasn't empty, Jim would be in trouble.

Who said that he actually had to _eat_ it, though?

He shrugged, looking around the room for something to throw the monstrosity in.

His ankles were still both in soft restraints, apparently for "protection against falling out the bed while dreaming", but knowing McCoy, he was all secure so that he couldn't go walk-about. Unfortunately, this added more thought to his escape plan.

With this problem in place, Jim looked around for something within arms reach where he could hide the bowl.

_Pour it all in a tray?_

_No, he'd see that easily._

_Pack them into hypospray vials?_

_No, that'd take way too long._

_Where's the nearest waste disposal?_

_Damn, the other side of the room._

He looked at the bioclock...

_18:52. He's gonna come any minute._

Defeated, Jim glared harshly at the bowl of food before him. Perhaps eating it was the only option.

 _One bowl of food for my escape._  
Okay. I can do this.   
I've been through so much worse.

Holding his breath so he didn't smell the food so close to his face, he dunked the spoon into the mixture which resembled soup, fed it into his mouth, and swallowed.

Instantly he gagged, spluttering bits of sauce over the white sheets of his biobed

Fuck! He grimaced and pulled the soup away, What the hell is that?!

The bioclock caught his eye again...

_18:58._

He swore he heard a door swoosh in the distance.

_Shit. Okay. Down it. Down it in one._

He psyched himself up, _Come on, come on, come on,_

In this encouraging mindset, Jim lifted the edge of the bowl to his mouth, gulping all the contents down in one go.

_Bad idea._

Seconds later, he slammed the bowl down, gagging over the side of the bed and gripping the sheets.

_It's just food. Get water._

There was no water laying around.

_God, god, god---_

Jim suddenly threw up over himself, his mind spinning as he heaved for breaths.   
Sweat was beading around his forehead quickly, he panted heavily, then gagged and threw up more.   
He tensed up and jerked forward, a distant shrill beeping hidden in the depths of his ears.   
After the constant jarring motions, Jim forced himself to sit upright against the bed.

Throwing up was so common, but he never seemed to get used to it.

All of a sudden, hands were all over him, pushing him onto his back and pulling him to his side.

From there, Jim threw up again, unable to stop the tears forming in his eyes. He was dizzy, tired, weak and nauseous over food.

Something weird was pressed under his chin, and upon opening his eyes, found it was a basin.

Behind it, was Bones, dressed in his usual blue shirt attire.

Eyes rolling around his head, Jim moaned to himself in exhaustion.

Bones placed a hand on his trembling shoulder.

"What's wrong? Did you try to get outta bed? Dammit Ji--"

Jim loudly moaned to stop the incoming lecture, and gestured his head towards the empty bowl.

McCoy's eyes lit up in realisation and turned back to face Jim.

"You ate it? That's good, Jim, I really thought you wouldn't. In fact, I was counting on it."

Jim groaned once more, shutting his eyes and deciding to give into the exhaustion.

Before he was rudely interrupted by a hypo to the neck.

"AH-BONES!" he bellowed in surprise, hand automatically reaching up to his neck.

McCoy smiled, filing the hypo away. "Should help with your nausea. I'll get someone to take you back to your quarters."

At this, Jim's eyes widened in surprise. He'd thrown up the food he was given, surely McCoy'd want to keep him longer?

"Don't look at me like that. You didn't run away, or make an escape plan," he pressed a couple of buttons to the side of the bed, just out of his eyesight. "Plus, you ate this," he referred to the bowl.

Jim nodded weakly, beginning to get the feeling he wasn't even required to eat it in the first place.

"I'll have to start ya on a new diet plan. I'll give you some shots tonight, I'll come and see you tomorrow."

Jim nodded again, eying the nurse that had walked in and marched straight to the end of his bed.

Finally, an escape.

........

"Jim, open up!" McCoy was yelling outside his quarters for the third time in the past hour.

Getting slammed in the neck with a hypo yesterday was one too many times, now there was no way he was going to let him in again.

"I mean it! I'll use my damn override if I have to!"

 _'God, shut up and let me sleep'_ , Jim thought, pushing his head further into the pillow as if to block out all sound from around him.

Which it didn't.

_Beepbeepbeep...beep beep... beep—_

The telltale swooshing sound of a door being forced open with McCoy's medical override made Jim want to ram his tired head so hard into the pillow that it'd go where no head had gone before.

"Go'way" he mumbled into the squashy cushion, not planning to move any time soon.

That idea was short lived however, as McCoy soon planted himself on Jim's bed, glaring daggers into the would-be-sleeping man.

"Get up."

Jim moaned, "Noooo..."

He felt five, but damn if he wasn't going to get some rest.

"Sit up, Jim," McCoy softly urged, skillfully pulling a hypo out of his pocket without having to even look for it, "Or I will drag your negligent backside to sickbay and make you eat intravenously," he barked, "It's this or sickbay."

Jim once again let out a grunt in annoyance and ever so slightly shifted his legs.

"Can't," he slurred into the pillow, "Comfy,"

At this, McCoy was heard to audibly sigh, then pushed Jim's head to the side to access his neck properly.

In the hypo went.

Jim tried to swat him away lazily, face still submerged into the pillow, but gave up.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" McCoy stared at the half-drooling Captain, his eyes slowly falling shut and open again.

"Yeeeeah," Kirk slurred, licking his cracked lips, "I woke up two hours ago,"

"Uh huh," McCoy pulled out a scanner from his med kit and started hovering it over a very irritable Jim.

"Try to sleep, your next hypo is in five hours," he said without looking up from the tricorder.

Then frowned.

"You woke up two hours ago?"

"Uh huh"

"How many hours?"

"Dunno"

"Six, seven?"

Jim blinked sluggishly, absorbed in thought for a second.

"Mmm'bout 0900 hours"

"You woke up then?"

"No, wenna'sleep"

Jim knew he was in deep shit when the next moment consisted of tense silence.

"You went to sleep at 9?"

"Uh huh"

"That's twenty two minutes of sleep, Jim."

"Uh huh"

"You can't command like this!"

"You won't let me command!"

McCoy bit back a rude retort and blew out a heavy breath through his nostrils.

"So you're trying to make a point? Because I won't release you for duty yet?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Jim shrugged into the mattress.

"Just couldn't sleep I guess."

Bones stared on at Kirk face down on the bed for a few more seconds before hauling up by the shirt collar; Jim elicited a surprise screech.

"Bones!" he croaked in confusion, his eyes squinting from the sudden intake of light.

All hostility left McCoy as soon as he took another look at him. The young Captain looked drained and like he'd never closed his eyes before, not to mention as pale as a sheet.

"Alright," he sighed, "I need you to drink something I brought along, and that's it."

Jim groaned as McCoy walked away from him and back to the door, dreading what poisonous concoction he would be forced to consume next.

Bones strode back over with an old-fashioned syringe and a cup.

Jim swallowed hard.

"Whoa, no, hold on," he flailed his arms around and backed away from the torture instrument, "I thought you said it was just a drink?"

McCoy glanced down at the instruments he had in hand before breaking out in a smile,

"What, you thought I was gonna jab you with this?" he laughed, pulling the syringe apart and pouring the liquid in a cup, "Tempting, but no."

The cup was handed to Jim, who squinted wearily at it. He attempted to sniff it, but it smelt...like nothing.

"It's just nutrition in liquid form you moron!"

Jim scowled at the insult and downed the whole thing in one.

Which was a bad idea, as he made a face and gagged.

" _God_ , what _is_ that?!" he spluttered, tossing the cup away from him. It bounced off the bed and hit the floor.

"Like I said-- it's your nutrition for the morning, since you can't keep down solid food-- or even liquid for that matter, so lemme just get a hypo in case--"

"Bones." Jim stopped McCoy before he could reach for another hypo, "I'm good."

McCoy kept an eye on Jim for the next few minutes, glancing towards him every so often. The normally lively and loud room dazzled with the aura that used to follow Kirk. Now it was silent, leaving anxiety and uncertainty in its wake.

Jim remained sat absentmindedly on the bed, fiddling with his fingers, legs crossed together tightly. His eyes were fixated on the ground, and over the next few minutes, not a word was spoken.

Eventually, McCoy broke the tension.

"D'ya need help to sleep or somethin'?"

It took a while for the silent man to respond, but he dug his finger nails deeper into the yellow shirt. At that moment, McCoy wondered when Jim ever had the chance to change clothes.

Finally, Jim offered what appeared to be a very discreet nod. Damn, kid must be tired as hell to ask for help.

"When can I go back on duty?" An unexpected small voice asked. What he'd give for Kirk to sound upbeat; and even piss off everyone again.

"Not yet. Once you can keep down at least liquids I'll put you on light duty."

Jim didn't acknowledge him this time, simply scrunched the sagged material of his yellow uniform into a ball with his fists.

Uniform was made to fit perfectly, not a wrinkle of cloth in sight.

Jim's however, at least since the ordeal he'd been through, was much too big for him, and left yellow cloth crinkled over his belly from excess material. Clearly, the kid was much too underweight.

"Why don'tcha try some soup now?" he asked gently, hoping to push the motivation out of him. The sooner he could eat, the better.

Jim shook his head, "M'not hungry," he gestured to the pillow, "Wanna sleep."

Well, he couldn't deny him that.

Shrugging, McCoy reached over to the medkit that was slung on the end of the bed.

Whipping out a hypo and changing the vials, he glanced back up to Jim, who looked like he'd fallen asleep sitting up.

His eyes were shut, no tense lines on his face or wrinkles on his forehead signifying any pain.

It took a few more moments of vials clicking together before McCoy realised Jim didn't flinch at the sound like he usually does-- he had falling asleep sitting up.

Smirking, McCoy quietly slot the hypo back into the medkit, being careful not to stirr him.

He shifted closer slightly, then gently lowered Jim down so that he was properly laying down flat on the bed, maneuvering his legs so that his feet didn't hit the medkit.

For the first time in a long while, the kid looked peaceful, and McCoy intended for it to stay that way.

Grabbing his medkit and strolling towards the door, he took a second glance at Jim before calling the lights off.

"Lights, ten percent," he muttered, wondering how the computer heard him as the room dimmed into near-blackness.

He'd be sure to get his days worth of a hypo into Jim tomorrow instead.

 

END

…….

AAND we’re finally finished. Sorry if that ending seemed too abrupt, I really wanted to end it as I have a bunch of other fic ideas and I can only do one at a time, personally.   
I do hope you enjoyed the journey—or if you’re bingereading the whole thing, I hope you had a nice read lmao.

My next fic will be another hurt!Kirk one (I mean when is it ever not), centered around Jim and some repercussions with Frank. It all goes to shit when he meets him at some point, so watch out for that fic.

Follow the account or something, I don’t know how it works man.

:)


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